


Adam's Slave

by Erik



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adam/dante, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Fingering, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Dominance, Dominant, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harem, Harem of boys, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Male master/male slave - Freeform, Marriage, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Other, Ownership, Petplay, Public Masturbation, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Slavery, Submission, Submissive, Subspace, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Wedding, Werewolf, master - Freeform, owner - Freeform, slave - Freeform, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 03:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 27,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17015277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erik/pseuds/Erik
Summary: This is a story set in an alternative universe where slavery is common.He is a vampire with a sadistic side to him. After a string of slaves that were too weak or broke too easily, he'd been content with a harem of boys where he could divide his attention and energy and make them last.





	1. Adam

The knocks on the door were loud and rattling, but they were still not enough to stir the boy next to me awake. Not that I blamed him, low blood pressure tend to do that to you. That, along with exhaustion. He'd provided a good meal the previous night, luscious and pleasing, with as little fuss as one would expect. I could smell the remains of blood in the air, only a drift, but there was enough to put my mind in a slight haze.

Silky hair abstracted most of his neck and back from view, but I knew that if I lifted the strands, a deep red bruise would be all too visible, one that would take no less than few days to disappear and he'd be competent for another blood taste. 

It was quite the nausea, at first, having to switch between slaves every night or another, but it couldn't be helped. Intravenous fluids only took them so far. That, and it left the blood tainted for weeks, the taste stale. Involuntarily, my nose wrinkled at the thought in disgust. Granted, I only had to taste it few times, but it was enough of an unpleasant experience that I never wanted it repeated, not if it could be helped.

That being said, my slaves weren't given any as long as they could do without. It had happened a few times, were it was either that or a corpse, I had obligated, and given in. However, that had happened few times, and far inbetween, so it wasn't that big of an issue. 

The knocking continued, even more insistent. I signed inwardly, and moved to open the door. However, Soraya was already barging in, having given up on me replying. I couldn't blame her. The times where I had gotten up and opened the door  myself were scarce.

She gave me a hard stare, way to start the day. From the way she stares me down every time she disapproves, you'd think I'm the one working for her, and not the other around. "Good morning, Sir." She greeted. "I hope you had a good night's sleep." Although her words respectful, her tone suggested that she didn't give a damn about how well I slept.

I answered her anyway, my tone pleased. "Well enough. When does business start today?" Translation: how late am I? 

"In ten minutes, the Allen's representatives will be in your office." 

"I'll be there in fifteen." I promised. 

Soraya gave me another of her hard glares before nodding, and exiting the room. 

My morning routine took less than ten minutes, and by the time I was out of the shower, and with a clean pair of dress slacks and shirt, a slave came in with my morning coffee, and I was out of my room.

I didn't have an office, or a study, or even a table with my pens and papers assembled on it. Soraya always referred to my father's study as 'your office'. Since, indeed, it was the place where all formal meetings in my home took place. 

When father left to start his few-years-long vacation, I had the family home remodeled, for it had last been furnished before I was born. And nothing had been touched since. My father's study was the only room I left untouched. Its furniture was ancient, nothing like the modern, open spaces I preferred for my own living quarters. But it was imposing, and spoke of power. I've  found it haunting as a child, and part of me revelled at the fact that I could make another as uncomfortable as I once was whenever I went to it.

Charles Allen, along with three other men, two which I identified as his lawyers and a third I didn't recognize, sat on the armchairs in the rectangular hall outside the study, sipping on beverages. My lawyer was standing to the side, having a heated chat with Soraya, most likely reprimanding her for my tardiness.

"Gentlemen, welcome!" I called, an easy smile working it's way across my face.

The men greeted me, Charles introducing the third visitor as Andrew Wallis, with no further information, and we filed into the room.

The atmosphere was pleasant, this wasn't a business meeting by definition, but it definitely entailed money and mutual interests. The Allens' allegiance to the Smiths had been rendered for two decades before they reached out only weeks ago, proposing a rejuvenation. And it was, indeed, a rejuvenation. Senior Allen, Charles's uncle, had never gotten along with my father, and so the connections had been quite strained until finally, they severed it. Now that the old men were out of the picture, we found that reconnecting would be beneficial to both parties, theirs especially. It was their family swearing the allegiance to ours, not the other way around, binding their lives to ours. 

The paperwork, along with the blood exchange, had been drawn days ago, the clauses agreed upon. They'd vote in my family's favor in the VHC and they'd come to my family's defense if the need arises, and so will we. Long ago, these alliances were charade houses and what crumbled others. They'd be made to insure someone stay in power and others never reach it. Nowadays though, it was more of a business deal, since the blood wars were long over and rarely did any family attack another for fear of the council. 

We signed the papers that the lawyers produced, several copies, and exchanged pleasantries. If it wasn't for Soraya and my lawyer's watchful gaze, I would've proposed a toast, then a club visit to get as drunk as our blood would allow. Being a vampire meant you never get drunk. Tipsy, sure, but never drunk. Not enough to take the world away, anyway. 

But it wasn't even mid day yet. And I knew Soraya had a long list of locations to visit, and people to met, and finally, papers to sign. So, no, I couldn't celebrate my way out. 

Pleasantries soon turned to a light chat, and then Charles spoke, "I've found it was a popular practice to celebrate a league with presenting the other party with a good well gift. 

"They're wrapping yours," I lied smoothly. I hadn't thought to prepare or order anything of the like. It hadn't even crossed my mind.  "It should be delivered tonight. I haven't much of an idea about your interests, though, so you'll have to excuse me, but I hope it'll be to your liking."

"I'm sure it will." Charles acknowledged, "Mine is waiting in the car, however." He gave Wallis a pointed look, the man stood up, "If you'll excuse me, Sir."

Once the door was closed behind him, Charles turned to me, "I must confess, I had to confide in a friend, because I had trouble deciding what would be an appropriate gift."

Amused, I assured him that I'd be humbled by whatever he brought, that the point wasn't its materialistic worth. 

He agreed, and was about to add to that when Wallis came back in with a knock announcing him. He came in, and I had the time to marvel his light blue, well tailored, three piece suit too bright in the sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows to the study. How this man tolerates all that fabric on his back in a hot humid summer day was beyond me, he also took the time to style his hair to perfection, with the tips of his shiny blond curls grazing his shoulders.

Behind him, stood a man, barely in his twenties. He wore white shirt and pants, not anywhere near Wallis's flashy suit. His skin was tanned, and his black hair quite long, the tips reaching well beyond his shoulders. He had the strands in thin braids and pulled back from his face, given him a sharper look.  "Mr Smith," Charles announced, "I hope you find him to your satisfaction."

I stared, then realized I was staring and stopped. I hadn't been expecting that, definitely not something I would've thought of. I turned to the man I realized now was a slave, and noticed, for the first time, the thin silver chain around his neck. 

I cleared throat, "Well, that is quite a surprise."

"A pleasing one, I'm hoping?"

"Very" I agreed.

Charles laughed, "He's not much to look at, I'm aware. But his looks aren't his best traits, they aren't what got him bought." 

"No?" I questioned, eyebrow rising. It was true. The slave wasn't a beauty on his own right. He wasn't petite and thin, neither did he have the perfect small, dainty nose or the lush lips pleasure slaves were known for. He didn't smell human either. But that didn't mean anything. He could be a good gardener, or a fantastic chef.

Again, though, Charles laughed, he stood up, and so did his two lawyers. "Andrew will tell you all about him. He's the trainer, after all. It's afraid I'm not good with the details." He extended his hand, and I shook it "It's an honour working with you, Mr Smith. I'm very pleased we could make this work."

He left, after. And my lawyer followed suit, gathering his papers and, after tipping an imaginary hat on his head, he exited. A slave exchange was common enough that he hadn't found it interesting enough to stay, it appeared. Soraya followed him out the door, and after reminding of an appointment in an hour, closed the door behind her.

Andrew Wallis didn't have the slave on a leash, but the latter followed him as if there was, indeed, one invisible rope guiding him towards the man. He produced a large brown envelope, from where, I knew not, and handed it to me. 

"Mr Smith, very pleased to make your acquaintance. I've tried to catch your attention many time in the past, but to vain. You're quite a hard man to meet. I've tried your office multiple times but to vain"

"Oh, well." I commented nonchalantly. Now that Charles was gone, I didn't have to pretend to be pleasant anymore. And the slave wasn't really the type I'd go for anyway. He wasn't pretty enough. "I had no need for someone to train my slaves. I purchase them obedient, or discard them."


	2. Adam

If Wallis was taken by my words, his natural expression showed none of it. He stared at me, just for a second old longer before a smile split the neutral mask. "But of course, Sir. I wouldn't have expected anything less." He pointed to the envelope that still sat on my desk untouched, before taking a seat wh"However, my services don't include breaking the slaves into submission, or servitude. I specialise in something different."

I raised an eyebrow at him. Didn't realize slavers now had specialities. What's next? Going to college and getting a degree? 

His smile didn't falter, however. If anything, it got wider. "I know what you're thinking, Sir." His tone said that he's seen my reactions on many before. "But my client's satisfaction at the end of our encounters always outweighs the doubts they had at the beginning."

I nodded. I still was unconvinced. But no one talked with that confidence unless said individual was either crazy or knew what he was talking about. I was willing to bet on the latter, but only because I wanted to procrastinate the unavoidable with Soraya once this guy decides to take his leave. 

He seemed satisfied with my nod, though, and only too happy to continue with my reluctant show on indulgence. "As I said, I've been trying to get your attention for quite some time. But only because I've heard rumors. You, my Lord, has rarely kept a slave more than a eight months, throughout the past thirty years. Whether it be an unfortunate accident, or selling them, of even giving them away. I was given the impression that you choose to turn some of them into domestic slaves after you were thorough with them."

Arguably, I did keep one slave for much longer than eight months. But I wasn't about to tell that stranger about my childhood companion. Especially since he seemed to know far too much for a human. 

In vampire circles, I was notorious for going through slaves in a pace faster than most. It was unusual, but it wasn't odd. At least, not odd enough for a human slaver to hear about. We were predators, after all, we fed off the weaker and forsake what's left of them. There were no laws designed to protect slaves, ones who were born into it or enslaved later on, after making bad choices in life. Therefore, we did as we pleased. 

Wallis continued, "After Mr Charles hired me, I was given the green light to start my research." He smiled sheepishly, "You see, my Lord, these aren't a cheap investigations. I had to to have something to fall back to. Especially since you weren't interested in my services. That would just be bad business."

I agreed. I was a businessman myself, after all. 

"My conclusion, or what I grasped after a while of going through the files in the system, was that-"

I cut him off, this man was turning to much more than I have given him credit for, "You have access to the system?"

The system, at its own right, takes a business framework, one run by men to make money, but ultimately controlled by the government. Since leaving slavers to work individually hasn't seemed to be of satisfaction in the past few decades, the Council took over. That still allowed slavers to do as they pleased, it only added the clause where every slave should be registered. So now, instead of simply handing a slave over like cattle in exchange for money, it required legal transfer and some paperwork. Of course, few still choose to ignore it, but after fines were put in place for every disorderly, the numbers of unregistered slaves had dropped considerably.

"Only because I'm within it, my Lord." He affirmed.

"I wasn't aware the system cared how many slaves I purchased through the years." 

"Oh, nothing like that, my Lord, it's only to provide better service. The number of slaves isn't what concerns us, it's our lack of ability to provide one that you'd find satisfactory.

"Since the system has established Ranks, we started doing things a bit differently, but only, as I said, to provide a better service, overall."

I looked over the slave behind him, he was old enough for this to be his second sale, at the very least. I've seen R1 slaves before, they were the optimum of anything that has ever been offered, superior in every way imaginable. I've even thought of getting one myself once or twice, the idea of owning one intoxicated me. But even I had to admit that the money I'd have to pay wouldn't be worth the six months the slave would survive with me. These slaves weren't made to be discarded, they were lifetime trophies.

I knew for a fact that they were sold young, though. The slave Wallis borough with him was at least four years too old. And besides, he looked nothing like one, he was too coarse, too rough 'round the edges. looking over him one more time, I was quite certain, "This isn't an R1."

Wallis looked at me, then at the slave. And for a second, I thought he'd challenge what I said, and claim the slave for what he wasn't. But then he grinned, nodding at the slave. "No, my Lord. He's barely a three." He acknowledged. "I must've phrased my words to imply he was, forgive me.

"What I meant was, we started looking through ways to provide services besides the ranking system. It was only established a few years ago, and offered infrequently. It was based on going through the history of the Master, in hopes of finding him a suitable match."

"This sounds like a violation of my privacy." 

"Your privacy had been guarded throughout these past years, Sir. I was only given access to it after Mr Charles signed his approval."

"Charles shouldn't have the access, either. He isn't privy to my private life." The man was starting to piss me off. Perhaps I shouldn't have taken Akira's advice to Charles's pledge, after all.

"He never saw any of them, either, Sir. He's only paid the fee. I was the only one given access to your information. And I'm legally bound to guide it with my life, I'd be sentences to no less than five years of prison if I broke the confidentiality." 

I knew he would be. So I nodded. 

"I hope you believe me, Sir. But this was all done with the best intentions in mind." He vowed. 

"Go on, then. Since you've gone through all that trouble, what's so special about the boy?" 

"Yes, my Lord. I've found that three of the four unfortunate accidents that occurred with your previous slaves were due to hemorrhagic shock." 

I've always found that human bodies carried less than the adequate amount to satiate me. And I told him so. 

"There's also the one death that was due to wounds." He went on, "I found that you needed a sturdy slave, one that could take more than humans could."

"I've had a werewolf before. I couldn't take the smell of his blood." Some vampires enjoyed werewolf blood, I wasn't one. 

Wallis nodded, as if he know, perhaps he did. "So you gave him away."

I shouldn't be surprised that he knew. He must've seen the transaction.

"Dante is a half breed." Wallis announced, "I've given a tube of his blood for few to sample. None differentiated between it and human's. I understand you have no problem with the taste."

I was doubtful, still. But what he promised was alluring enough for me to listen intently. 

"What's even more, my Lord. He revels in attention."

There, I had to stop him, snickering, "Doesnt every slave?"

He didn't take the bait, though, "Oh, Sir. They do, they revel in given attention in a positive way, praise makes them happy. This one, though," he vaguely motioned behind him, "enjoys any kind of attention. Positive and negative alike. He enjoys punishment, as long as his Master was the one delivering it.

"Don't get me wrong, my Lord, he feels pain just as much as any other, even though he leans more into a masochist side, his reaction to it is the only thing that makes him stand out. Because while any other slave would shy away after a paddling, he'd be the one leaning onto you. Plunging deeper into submission. Needless to say, he'd react to a reward in a similar manner."

"You've got me intrigued."

Wallis looked very pleased with himself at my admission, squaring his shoulders, and leaning over my desk. "His control over his reflexes isn't comparable. He'd remain resolute through harshest of treatment, unless ordered otherwise. He can take a lot if ordered, but break with one word from you."

The prospect turned me on, I found myself listening with renewed interest. The way Wallis spoke, it almost looked too pleasing to be true. 

He went on l. "He doesn't scar easily. If that has been a concern in the past with other slaves, you won't have to worry about it with him. He's got scales for a hide, literally.

"Speaking of scales, my Lord." His face soured at the admission, like he was about to deliver some bad news. "There are fall backs when it comes to this one. As hard as we try, we can't have it all. With your leave," he swirled his head back, eyeing the slave before turning back hesitantly. 

It took me a second to realize he was asking for permission to let the slave disrobe. I nodded my acceptance, and the slave started stripping. Wallis motioned for his envelope, and this time, I opened it. 

Inside, there were documents, but Wallis wanted me to look at something else. Pictures, and X-rays. There was one shot of his back, stamped to and x-ray. The small dull edges were easy to miss at the first look of him, but at second glance, I did see them. They were brown, blending well with the tone of his skin, making them almost invisible. I checked the x-rays, and was dumbfounded. I was no doctor, but I could've sworn that the scales were part of the bone. Emerging only at the forth rib to make itself known. And even then, it was barely visible.

I looked up, I wanted to see the squama in real lighting, and touch it. I couldn't make up my mind when it came to it. It was odd, and rare, and perhaps a little exciting.

Wallis was giving me an apologetic smile, his eyes on my face, waiting to see my reaction. The slave was now naked, so I stood up to take a closer look.


	3. Adam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcome.

As careful as I'd been not to show my reaction, Wallis must've noticed my hesitancy, because he then rushed to offer, "They might look gruesome, my Lord, but the only danger they pose is a sour look, and no more."

I wouldn't have called him an eye sour, and I most definitely wouldn't have thought of him as gruesome. It looked, at worst, like old scars. But it didn't matter, that was all the confirmation I needed, I raised my hand, and this time, I touched him.

The scales felt softer than they looked, my hand going through them, slowly. If i'd gone down in the direction of them,  I would've missed them, it was only after when going in the opposite direction that I felt their very soft peck. It tickled. And I found myself amused at the prospect of having been a little bit reluctant in touching them.

They went all the way down his back, and stopped above the swell of his ass, and I followed them with my fingers. I made him turn around to see his front, then. There were some brown thrones adorning his pelvis bone, not anything as visible as the ones in his back, but still there.

Two parallel lines of scarring at the side of his abdomen made me pause. Scales were one thing, marks by another Master was a completely different matter. The scales were exotic, and captivated me enough for me to find pleasing. Scars, on the other hand, not so much.

I raised his bowed head, my hand on his chin guiding him up. He looked at me the way slaves usually did, looking at me, but never meeting my eyes. 

He had green eyes, and quite thick eyebrows overshadowing them. His mouth and nose weren't anything to write home about, but his jawline made up for it. I let go of his chin, satisfied, to prod his chest, then feel for fat in his underarm. There was non.

He was sturdier than his appearance projected when I first laid eyes on him. His abdominal muscles were non-existent, but he did have some sort of shape to his upper arms.

He stood at least two inches shorter than me, his braids all too tightly done, I had the urge to run my hands through them, and I did, I imagined his hair to be bushy and crinkly if it had to be bound this tightly to keep it under control. I knew that slaves tried to look look their best when meeting potential owners, and if this was the best he could do with his hair, I had to admit I was a little disappointed. I was used to the silky strands slaves had, and I had enjoyed their hair enough to know that I'll miss them when it comes to this slave.

"They're burn marks, my Lord." Wallis quipped in when he saw me looking at the two parallel scars, "I don't imagine who ever caused them had known about his allergy to heat."

"Allergy?"

He coloured a little, "A figure of speech, my Lord. What I meant was, his body heals anything, if given the time, except for burn marks, or anything caused by fire."

I let go of his hair to crouch down on my knees and examine them. Wallis crouched down with me, and continued, "And, from what he told me, they used hot rods on him as a form of punishment. They healed quickly enough, but never disappeared."

I nodded, standing up, and motioned for him to put his clothes back on.

Wallis stood as if strung by a cord, "Surely, he has faults. But, my Lord," he protested, "His character far outweighs his semblance."

"I didn't reject him." I didn't add that I couldn't, even if I wanted to. He was already paid for, and a token of uniformity from Charles that I couldn't turn down. "I like him."

He looked startled, his eyes searching my face before he nodded, hesitant, sagging with obvious relief.

"You look surprised." I said it as a statement, but he clarified anyway.

"Well, yes, my Lord. I won't lie. You are known to be quite hard to please."

°

After Wallis left, I sent the slave with another who was waiting outside, and faced Soraya, she was giving me one hard measuring look.

Which was never a good sign.

"You sent him something?" First things first, I had to get Charles' gift out of the way, it was the most pressing.

She nodded, "I made a call to an art gallery." Then, "I don't trust that slave. I'm putting him under surveillance." Which only meant she'd talk to the security to keep an eye on him through the cameras throughout the house.

I couldn't care less, "Whatever helps you sleep better at night, lady."

"And the Abbots will be here next month. The whole clan is coming."

If she was expecting a reaction, she wasn't getting it. I gave my consent long ago, there was no point delaying the inevitable. The sooner this was over with, the better. My personal preference mattered very little in the matter. Family came first, name came first, reputation came first.

When she didn't get a response, Soraya relaxed her shoulders, agitation leaving her posture. "Well, for the rest of the day, we'll have two places to visit. Our five year contract with the transporting company needs renewing. And there's this summer's clothing line's face." She produced a file, put it on my office desk and opened it, "I've made a list predicting this season's most promising models. There are two new faces here, but both are well within demand. I have a separate file for each, of course. But I combined some of them in one so you won't need to go through them all. Only a selected few."

I didn't bother looking at any, quick to close it, and stand up. "None fit the criteria."

"You've got to be kidding me." She cried. "These are faces of the top models in the world, you didn't even look at them!"

"You know I've already made my pick." I didn't falter, I was, by now, used to her tantrums, "Months ago."

"And I told you then, as I'm going to tell you again. Akira is not a practical choice. Not one you'd want as the face of you new campaign. I've told you-"

I shut her out, after that. Going through messages on my phone, and sipping from my cup of coffee.

"-He has very little experience."

I had to stop her there, "How's he going to get experience if companies don't give him the chance to have them. Experiences come from working, and if every time the man wants to work, someone with your ideals builds a block of walls in his path, he's never going to get the experience."

Her mouth twisting in a snarl, she hissed, "Don't you sell that to me, I'm not buying! You and I both know why you want that small eyed Chinese cow."

I signed, and for the hundredth time, corrected her, "He's Japanese."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post a new part soon. Until, then, please let me know what you think


	4. Adam

Although my assistant had stopped pressing the matter after she realized I wasn't listening, I knew this wasn't the end of it. There was still time until the board of directors had a look at it -not that I expected any problems on that side. 

Once the photoshoot starts, however, it'd be too late. Until then, she would come at me at times when I least expected it and throw something at my face to try and change my decision by planting doubts in my mind. She was good at that, and if it was something else, I would have probably given in. She had spent a longer time in this line of work, but I wasn't willing to bow down to her authority when it came to this particular matter.

At last, she said goodnight when the night was still young, and left me to my own devices. It took me less than a second to have my phone out and pressed to my ear. I wanted the new slave, and I wanted Rhys. And I told the slave who opened the door as much.

After my father found that I detested werewolf blood, he thought of the perfect companion. One I couldn't kill so easily by biting off his head. And as much as I hated not having someone for a quickie whenever I needed one, and hated my father for not providing it, I had to applaud him for making that decision. Rhys, after all, did survive the longest of them all.

I didn't have the chance to have neither my breakfast nor my launch at home, and so I couldn't ask for blood in either meals. I was looking forward to tasting the new one. If he was as resilient as he was advertised to be, he'd survive both the beating I had planned and my fangs.

I rang the kitchen to have snacks delivered to my dungeon before taking off my three piece suit and discarding it for something more comfortable.

By the time I made it down to the underground level, they were both there. The new slave, already stripped naked, kneeling beside the armchair in front of high, platinum pole-dancing stage. I had taken the liberty of making a few additions to the house's old dungeons. And apart from switching the  old gear with newer versions, and switching the toys with a more sophisticated version, I've kept it, more or less, the same.

The stage wasn't my idea, and neither were the settees that lined one wall. I liked my time here private, no unnecessary audience to distract me, I'd lost interest in showing off after I'd passed my twenties, no longer did raising eyebrows excite me. My priority now, was leaving less agitated, and more at ease than when I arrived. Or at least, as at ease as one could hope to be after leaving a scene of whipped bodies behind.

Rhys was setting down my tray of fruits on the side table, I could see him eyeing the new one suspiciously, his eyes roaming the slave's naked back, I couldn't blame him. I was still wary with the scales myself.

Rhys must've seen something is his peripheral vision, because he turned to me, then, his face splitting to form a grin. The genuine happiness in his smile would give you the impression that he's just seen his sugar daddy.

Any other of my slaves would have prostate themselves at my feet, but not Rhys. And not just because he'd ruin the silk dress pants he was wearing, but because him and I weren't just master and slave, but a bit more.

He bowed his head, strands of blue hair spilling over his shoulders like a fountain, I moved to run my fingers through them, they were as fine as the day I've met him. Scrutinizing him, I cradled his head and tipped it upwards, "You told him to strip?"

His brows drew together, peering at me from beneath his lashes, "Sir?"

"The slave." I clarified, "You told him to strip?"

"No, Master"

I nodded. "I want you to hook his arms to the ceiling. Then blindfold him."

He nodded, once. And went to work.

He roused the slave up, and walked his to the center of the room, whereas I went to my armchair and my fruit.

It took him him a mere minute, he was used to it, after all. Rhys has been to this room almost as many times as I have been. He's been a constant present in my sex life from the moment I realized I had one.

When he was first introduced to me, he was a good five inches taller than me, and with more muscle mass than I had. But that was of little consequence, he still submitted when I needed him to. We were a comical sight, in our younger years. The large, robust slave with ripped muscles, and the skinny, slender, younger, Master.

My father wasn't worried, though. He revelled the fact that his ten year old son controlled and overpowered the larger male. He was proud, and quite boastful about it to whomever lent him an ear and listened to him gloat about it.

"Higher." I instructed Rhys, once the slave was in ropes. He was only bound from the wrists, his hands raised slightly above his head, his body saggy. "Suspend him in the air. I want only the balls of his feet to be touching the floor."

Rhys nodded, pulling the ropes tight, the slave's body went taut, and I was satisfied, nodding when Rhys looked at me for confirmation, and standing up, and moving behind him.

"He's a gift." I told Rhys, as a way of explanation, "I want you to play with him for me. I was told he had an impeccable control and stamina."

Rhys grinned, liking the game. "Your job is to get a reaction from him, make him moan, then milk him of an orgasm." I turned to face the slave, and moved where my face was inches from him. "Obviously, You don't have permission to make a sound, and it goes without saying that you're not allowed release, either."

He gave a hesitant nod.

I gave Rhys the signal to begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism? Anyone?  
> Feedback: always welcome.


	5. Dante

When I was called to him, I thought of many things I'd be expected to do, none of which included another slave. And one I haven't met yet, at that.

He had four slaves that were kept in separate private rooms that all were located in the same corridor. They all were curious to meet me the moment I set foot in a room of my own. They filed uninvited to the room I put in, and introduced themselves, I forgot their names moments after the introductions were made. They were my rivals, and I wasn't here to make friends at any rate. However, they had the advantage in this situation, they knew more than I did, since they were here before I was, and so I needed them. I made the effort to look friendly and genuine, extracting all I could from them. 

The things they said, however, weren't of much help. They were basic, and quite ridiculous, "Obey him." and "Don't anger him." 

Of course I was going to obey him, and I definitely wouldn't try him. They wouldn't talk about punishments or discipline, avoiding the topic entirely. But were ecstatic explaining that they get to eat whenever they wanted, and had phones and WiFi connection. 

"You get to pick the cloths you wear, too!" A redhead exclaimed.

"As long as they're in neutral colours, that is." Another one added, this on more reserved. "Master prefers lighter tones."

Redhead went on, "We're allowed to go shopping once every while, and we get an allowance." 

It seemed too good to be true, and when they saw my reluctance to believe what they said, they paraded me from room to another, showing off their purchases. "We're permitted to spend our time however we want when we're not with Master. And we could sleep in."

"We're not separated. We're allowed to spend time with each other, even at night." They said, and I grew increasingly annoyed. All the things they talked about concerned them. When in fact, they should be more interested in their owner, or their owner's whereabouts.

Rhys wasn't among those I met, I was certain he didn't take residence in that corridor, either. And so, seeing him be so familiar with the Master has brought the idea that he was favored enough to have graduated the corridor. Perhaps even made it to the Master's bedroom. It wasn't unheard of, favored ones got away with many things. 

From the way Wallis had talked about this Master, I had expected dungeons and torture, slaves broken in and terrified. Instead, I find these self absorbed, spoilt brats. It was white the shock.

When I was finally called upon that night, and going underground, it was like putting things in their right place, finally agitation left me. Playrooms and dungeons, I could deal with.

One of the four slaves led me to the room, but wouldn't go in, standing far enough "There," he pointed, before turning and sprinting away. 

I took off my cloths and folded them, before sweeping my eyes around. I could choose the middle of the room to kneel, but would that be a good idea? I'd be the first thing he sees. He wasn't very keen on my looks when he first laid eyes on me. More interested in what he'd do to me. I couldn't help the shiver, he'd hurt me, I knew, it was the reason he thought me useful at all. There was a good chance I'd only be used as the whipping boy, I didn't think I aroused him enough to be anything else. And seeing the other ones had confirmed my suspension about me not being his type. 

However, I also knew the importance of a whipping boy, I also brought the Master joy. Only difference was that my type of submission would differ, and so the type of joy would be different, too. 

Seconds after I kneeled, the man with the dyed blue hair came. He was carrying a tray, and his eyes only lingered when they landed on my back. I was expecting that, the scales  always brought attention. 

When the Master arrived, he paid special attention to Rhys, before ordering him to tie me up. When he asked about my naked form, I knew I made a mistake, and when my hands were bound and I was half suspended in the air, I knew to expect pain. 

Which is why my involuntary reaction came unchecked. I expected Rhys to deliver strokes of pain, and so was taken back when I felt the tender touch. I shivered, delighted, then moaned. I wasn't even aroused, I wasn't sensitive, I was only surprised. But it was a mistake, nonetheless. 

"One point to Rhys." The Master announced, sounding detached, he had moved further, to the armchair. "Blindfold him."

And that's when blackness took over. 

I didn't hear the Master's voice again, I couldn't even tell if he was still there, because he's said nothing for the longest time.

I was determined to prove my worth, however, and I didn't make a sound after. Not when Rhys switched from the soft touches to firm hits, and not when he finally decided to use a riding crop on my thighs and butt cheeks. I thought I've done well. I grew accustomed to his hand, he switched  caressing me once again, this time taking my nipples in his mouth and sucking on them, but I knew my resolve. And apart from involuntary twitches, no reaction came from me.

Time passes, and I was in a haze, I was deprived of my hearing, next, for he put buds with obscenely high music playing in my ears. 

Then he started all over again. And I wasn't sure if I did, indeed, break,  had no way of knowing. I couldn't hear myself, couldn't see anyone's reaction. I lost my footing, after that, because I couldn't find the floor to place my feet on. Only my arms that carried my weight, and it grew more uncomfortable. I wasn't used to the alternation of methods. My previous Masters had moods, they were either mad, and wanted to punish. Or pleased, and their touches soft.

Rhys's style put me off balance. He applied pressure right where it mattered, my sensitive flesh singing with his tongue, he'd drive me so high, then use a palm to spank my ass, driving me insane, breaking y focus and making it harder to concentrate. 

I thought I spent a long time like that, until he started lubing my hole, inserting a finger and then another to stretch me before he withdrew all together. I was bracing myself for an impact, any kind of impact -because he obviously was planning something- when the little buds were yanked from my ears, followed by the blindfold, and it all came to a halt. 

He was standing behind me, one arm going around my waist to support my weight and the other snaking to my pelvis, grasping my còck, and giving it a jerk, "You can sing for me, now." My owner whispered. 

And I did, the spell broken.

The long moan that came from my throat was animalistic, he hadn't given me permission to release myself, but I knew pre-cum had escaped. Another stroke and I was leering, my head thrown backwards, leaning on his shoulder. Knowing I wouldn't get many chances to be this close to him, or allowed to put my weight on him, I knew to savour every bit of it.


	6. Dante

"You can put the toy down. It's not going in him." He ordered, "Untie him." 

He had let me sag in the bonds, his arms no longer supporting me, and  walked to stand in front of me.

His finger pulled my pubic hair, "This will have to go." He told me, as Rhys's hands were on my ropes, "I want you smooth." He  tweaked a nipple, "And decorated."

I didn't meet his eyes, not once since he had me. But now that's his hands were on me, the urge was stronger than ever. And I fought harder to suppress it. 

"It seems we've met the one who can counter your charms, honey." He wasn't talking to me, I knew. "He didn't so much as twitch, gotta give him credit for that." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Perhaps you've lost your touch." He was teasing, now. "After all this time, it ought to happen, you know."

Rhys had taken the bondage off, and I had sagged in his arms, he pushed me off him, careless. "I haven't." He stressed out, his voice too close for.My liking. "This one is just a prick of static solid." He poked me, on the shoulder, hard. I didn't wince. "See?"

My owner chuckled. And moved down with me as I went limp in the ground, grabbing my hair pulling, he made me look at him. "What's your name?" 

The cool blue eyes watched as my dry lips moved, "Dante." I told him.

"You may keep it."

I was grateful, and ready to prostate myself for him, kiss his feet, if it weren't for the hand holding my scalp in a death grip.

He pulled, and I went with his hand, he stood up, bringing me up with him. He sniffed me, his nose inches from my neck, before I felt the fangs that weren't there the last time I looked. 

I've heard that vampires possessed the ability to make it all like a passing dream. That they had the ability to take the pain away from the bite, that they could  make death a ride to heaven, steal your soul with you smiling, accepting. 

I accepted alright, I just couldn't take the pain away. My Master had no intention of making it easy for me, however, it was as painful, as excoriating as a hundred needles piercing me mercilessly. I relished the feeling, as it turned my body cold. 

It was over before long. 

He let go, moving away, a droplet falling away from the left side of his mouth. He was neat, not one stain of red had appeared on him shirt. Neat and deadly. 

The glint in his eyes patronized me, haunted me, I forgot to look away. 

The hand that fell on my shoulder broke the spell, it was Rhys. Damn slave! 

"He tasted good, too, this Dante." Again, he talked over my head, completely ignoring me standing two feet away. At least he sounded pleased

"It appears so, my Lord."

His voice came teasing, "You jealous, Rhys?" 

The dry laugh Rhys produced as answer wasn't joyous in the least.

The Master seemed to be waiting, still, for the answer. 

And got it, "Maybe, my Lord."

"All the more reason to take care of him, don't you think?" He was moving away, to the door. "Pierce him for me, will you? Make him lose these braids, too. They're getting on my nerves."

He was gone before Rhys could give a reply.

°

I found that there was the one I haven't met before, after all. They weren't four, but five. Not counting Rhys. 

The fifth was asleep most of the day, recovering from his time with the Master. 

He was the most memorable between them all, however. And I had no problem bonding with him. He was perhaps, aside from Rhys, a favored one. 

I could tell why, immediately. Apart from being much better looking than I was,  He knew his surroundings much better than the others, too. He was human, and so I knew his blood pleased the Master. His only defection, as far as I could tell, was his frail body. 

By human standards, he would've been a healthy lad, not by vampire's, though. His body couldn't take much, humans couldn't ever, anyway. They were too weak.

Still, he held himself pretty high. And had survived long as seven months with the Master. That alone, was a record enough to set him apart from others. 

And perhaps he was set apart. His earlobe held teardrops of diamonds. And I had an illusion of decorations in other places, too. The others had silver jewellery. And one had gold, but that was about it. 

They all were pierced, and three of the five tattooed. I knew I'd be, too, soon enough. 

Leave a comment to let me know what you thought.


	7. Dante

By the time I saw my owner again, I had two nipples pierced and a tiny tattoo on my forearm representing the house of my Master. I took that as a good sign, since I believed he wouldn't pierce a slave he wasn't interested in keeping. 

I had worn neutrals, for I was given the chance to choose my cloths from a catalogue that Rhys brought. For I wasn't allowed anywhere outside my room after the second night. A woman the slaves called Soraya came and had people install a large nail to the floor of my room. She then had me bound to that nail with a chain that allowed me free access to the room but not anywhere outside. 

I hadn't resisted. Hadn't asked for reasons, either, or an explanation. I knew the other slaves weren't treated as such, but figured she wouldn't act on her own accord, only with instructions. 

And I was used to such treatment, at any case. The favored one, Aloise, came to me, as that wasn't forbidden, from what I understood. He brought me food and gave recommendations when it came to cloths. He was good company, at any rate. And answered my questions the way I'd want them answered, didn't beat 'round the bush. 

"He punishes severely," Alois told me in a hushed tone, "And most of times, there is no reason. He doesn't need one to hit you, or slap you around. He doesn't like squirming. Fidgeting makes him agitated, and it would increase the likelihood of him getting annoyed."

"No moving," I affirmed, "Got it."

"During fucking. Don't ever touch him. Well," he corrected, "Don't ever touch him without permission, but especially during that, you know. He hates being touched. He has this tattoo,  a really pretty one. Up on the bicep, it goes all around to his chest." 

Aloise had a dreamy look about him, he was fair and angelic, golden ringlets of hair framing his face and and reaching past his shoulders. He became even more solemn and moonstruck when talking about the Master, however, even.more so than usual. And now he had that look plastered all over his face, it was hard not to get distracted.

"I thought he was happy with me. We'd just mated, and he was petting my head, he played with my hair, so I thought, maybe, he wouldn't mind, you know?"

I nodded, not because I knew, or understood, but because I wanted to know more. "So I went and touched it. The tattoo. And it broke the spell. He was so mad, he pulled me by the hair, and-" he flushed a pretty pink, and stopped talking, averting his eyes. "Well, you get the point. Don't touch."

And I did. 

"He has a boyfriend." He told me on one occasion. 

"The Master?"

"Yes. He's Asian. The boyfriend, I mean."

When I asked for more, Aloise was happy to tell me more, "He's a model. Really tall. Towers over Master. His name is Akira."

"Master Akira." I repeated.

Aloise shook his head, "He doesn't like to be called that."

"An abolitionist." It would be weird, for why would he be with a known sadist if he was so.

Again, Aloise shook his head, cracking up, as if finding the mere idea of that hilarious. "Far from it. You'll see. He's a perfectionist. You call him Akira. Or better yet," he seemed to think on it. "He doesn't mind Sir. But I tell you what, avoid him altogether and save yourself the trouble."

"That bad?" I wondered.

"No. It isn't like that. He's actually nice. He, well, you'll understand when you see."

Throughout the days I spent, I learnt that the slaves were called upon, no one fetched them. And so I was fretful when Rhys came to take me, and walk me all the way to the Master's room. He waved away any questions I had, however, ever the snide asshole. 

He's made it clear, since that very first day that he found me a vile sight. And I never fought to correct his assumptions. Even when I knew that I could be made to pay hard if a time came and I was especially displeasing to him. Favored ones were a dangerous lot.

We passed two vampire kids, a woman, presumably a slave, following them about. There was a girl, no older than twelve, and a boy who was few years younger. The girl stopped as she spotted Rhys. 

He smiled at her, and gave a mock of a bow, I stifled a laugh. 

"Who is this?" She asked, pointing at me. "Is he uncle's?"

Master's niece, then. Did she live here? Aloise hadn't mentioned little kids.

Rhys answered her, then she had few remarks to add, calling the woman with her to ask her for her opinion. I could see that Rhys was trying to cut the conversation short, but the little girl wouldn't budge. 

Rhys kept trying to tuck me away, his body moving to abstract me from her vision. It wasn't until Soraya came, screeching at Rhys to move,  that we finally made an escape. 

I heard her reprimanding the little miss, and felt a shiver, that human woman wasn't to be rifled with, if she was allowed to speak to nobility children that way, how much influence did she have over slaves, then.

Rhys knocked on the door before going in. We were in a wing I hadn't been in before, but that isn't saying much. I only ever was in the study and the dungeons. A bedroom was an improvement. Or at least I assumed.It was a bedroom.

It wasn't. 

It was a gaming room. Set with a billiard table and comfortable armchairs. The lighting was low, and soft music played in the background, the soft kissing sounds coming from the far end of the room didn't stop when Rhys opened the door and shoved me inside.


	8. Dante

The figure that stood first wasn't my Master', but a tall man in a white dress shirt and a silk pants. Being a slave, my eyes went to the impeccable ironing that went into them. They were sheet white. The man's hair was coal black, long and straight and shiny. 

Given that the man had just risen from a hungry kiss that lasted few minutes, I'd think he looked a little disheveled. But apart from his puffy lips, not a hair was out of place. And I mean that quite literally. He was the picture of wholeness, of perfection. I felt little just by standing next to him. 

I was staring, and standing with mouth open like a fish. Only when did his hand landed on my face did I finally remember to look away. "He's untrimmed." Were his first words, and they weren't for me.

My Master didn't reply. He had stood up and was considering his reflection on the glass of the carved cabinet intently. It wasn't until he opened the glass that I realized he was looking inside it, for he got out a crop, then a whip, followed by a flogger with gleaming leather. 

He carried the last item to his boyfriend, for I finally had put two and two together and had the thought to steal a look to confirm the Asian heritage in his features. It was definitely the boyfriend. 

"It's bear's skin." My Master said, turning the Asian's attention away from he, "Here," he pushed it to his hand. "Feel it."

The man sighed dramatically. "Show off, Smith" I could almost see his eyeroll through my peripheral vision, but he took the item, anyway. "I thought we were going to start with a crop."

My Master ignored the comment. "Does it feel any different from the deer's skin? What do you think?"

"It feels synthetic." He deadpanned. "Plastic."

It was now my Master's turn to roll his eyes. "A little more attendance, Akira. It won't kill you to take things seriously. For once."

"I am taking it seriously. It's you who's taking the opportunity  to boast about the countless hides you skinned your whips from. I don't give a cow's fuck about that. I just wanna learn how to do the whipping with some grace."

"Fine!" He whipped away from him, only to bring the riding crop this time around.

"Strip" he instructed.

"Make him keep the underpants. Or you'll just get distracted."

"My slaves don't wear underpants." I silently thanked Aloise in my head for warning me about that. The cloths we were provided with had underwear, and we could wear them, just not under our cloths when our Master was round. It was peculiar. Why did they gave us some if we weren't aloud to wear them. "And you're going to need his ass exposed anyway."

Not that I had much of a chance for truly getting to know my Master, but I know enough to understand that he didn't have the patience to discuss anything with anyone. He simply gave orders, and these orders were followed. I wasn't prepared for this side of him to emerge.

I was too occupied with their bickering that I forgot my order and just stood there, my eyes going from one of them to the other, desperately trying at keeping my face neutral.

My Master noticed first, and he jammed his foot to the back of my knee with little to no effort, bringing me to my knees at once. "Take them off!" 

Feverishly, I conveyed. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'm sorry, I-" 

"Dont talk. Just do. Shall I gag you?"

"Absolutely not." Akira opposed. "I need to hear him. How would I know of I was going too far."

"I would tell you" My Master reprimanded, his voice jokingly hurt, "Don't you trust me to tell you when it gets too far."

"No!" He retorted, "You hit these lads til they bleed. This is about sensuality, not punishment."

My Master sounded lost, "You want him to enjoy it?"

"Yea! That's what I've been telling you."

I had finished discarding my cloths, waiting for them to finish, I tidied up the few garments and put them away, along with my shoes.

"Well you get Rhys for that. And one of the other boys! This is the whipping boy. He doesn't do pleasure."

And there was the reason I was ignored for the last week. I had thought it was only usual, that I had to wait til he wished to see me. I hadn't known it was his belief that I was no good for receiving nor giving pleasure. 

But he had me jewelled, why would he bother with piercing me? He allowed me cloths, he let me choose them for myself. Surely that accounted for something. 

And the dungeon. What was that? Wasn't that proof enough that I could please? That I could hold my release, and only moan for him. That I could be his, in pleasure just as my h is pain. I hadn't though that I had failed his test, but perhaps I have. Or maybe he wasn't testing what I thought he was testing. 

He has, after all, commented on my appearance, and compared to the other he had, I was, indeed a fiddling. From the little I saw, they were all smooth, fine boned, they had the sensual part down alright.

The stab of pain I felt didn't bleed, but it cut through the bone. I now knew why I was confided to my rooms when all the others roamed free. I wasn't one of them, no matter how hard I had tried to convince myself throughout the past week. I wasn't a pampered pet. I wasn't a pet at all. 

I was the whipping boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this fiction, please leave kudos and/ or comments. Looking forward to hearing your thought.


	9. Chapter 9

I woke with a start. The alarm had sounded somewhere in the villa. It wasn't a fire. Something else. An attack, perhaps. 

Beside me, Akira rolled to his stomach and his snoring continued. I shook his shoulder, "Get up!"

But he's only snuggled closer go the third party that occupied our bed, a slave Akira showered with kisses since the moment he appeared. My boyfriend had the habit of being too affectionate towards slaves after a fuck, he called it aftercare. Personally, I thought it nonsense, because only moments before he'd taken him to our bed, he was using a crop to colour most of his body a shade of red. But he seemed to be enjoying it, and the slave reveled at the unusual attention, so I shrugged it off and instead, chose to watch without commenting.

Outside, steps sounded, and my door fell open. My sister stood glaring "It's your slave!"

"What slave?" Although I thought I already knew the answer.

"He's gone mad!" She accused, moving towards me and jabbing my chest with her finger. "Get him under control. Maggie's crying."

"What's going on?" My boyfriend had finally aroused from his slumber. After my slave had stirred to sleep, sitting up. Lee sat silent, sensing that the situation wasn't one he could interfere with. Akira, on the other hand, didn't, "Hey! Theresa."

"Go back to sleep." If it were only the slaves, someone would have locked them in, there was no danger on them. On anyone here. The danger was locked away, if there was, indeed, any danger at all. 

Of course, only Lee obeyed, Akira was now as awake as one could be.

I turned to Theresa, "I'll have them turn the alarm off in a sec. You can go back to your room." 

She was still glaring, I moved to grab something to cover my nudity with. 

"I love the dress! You're sparkling, darling." I heard Akira say, "Who are you wearing."

"Theresa Smith!" She replied. "You like it?"

"You made this! It's magnificent."

I didn't hear her reply, because I was already out the door. At least she's forgot about me for the moment. I didn't want to think of how she was planning to get back at me in the next few days. Perhaps Akira could keep her occupied with polishing her pride a bit, and she'd be busy telling him all about her tailoring sessions.

Meanwhile, I found my way to the third floor where the metal door was secured closed. Soraya and two guards stood outside. "Sound off the alarm! At once!" I reprimanded.  "You could've just roused me instead of putting the whole house in chaos." I turned to Soraya as one of the two ran off to do as I bid. "Theresa is fuming. Open the door."

Soraya handed me a key chain, her face unreadable. "It also needs your fingerprint."

Momentarily, the metal was groaning, and the corridor inside was accessible, I stepped inside. The lively place was unusually quiet. 

I had I go through three doors before I found the forth locked. I banged on it. "Open the door!"

In seconds, it was unlocked, two set of eyes stared at me, one wailing, "He almost killed him, Oh Master! He almost killed him!"

"Killed who?" Breathing heavily, I pushed them backwards, a human slave sat on the bed, clutching a hand wrapped in bandages smudged with blood, he was obviously breathing, very much alive.

I turned back to the two at the door, both pointing to another door. I tried it, only to find it locked. I didn't need to shout, this time around. The door opened, and out came Aloise, sweaty and his hair wild, but in one piece, "It was a misunderstanding." He announced, as a way of greeting, "All a misunderstanding. It isn't his fault."

I pushed him aside. I'd deal with his attitude later. Aloise out of the way, I could clearly see the inside of the room, where Rhys lay sprawled on the bed, hugging Dante close, his weight over the other slave, pinning his torso and legs. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was showing the younger slave affection. But the arm he was using to keep Dante so close was hairy, and larger than a human's. In my absence, Rhys had taken the initiative to keep the others from harm's way. Well, as much away from harm's way as possible. Since there was already a wounded boy in the other room. 

At least the most dramatic of them all wasn't here. Lee would've cried for days, and then some, waking up the whole corridor with screams of nightmares. It happened once, when I made the mistake lending him out, I never did it again. He was too soft and fragile for that sort of thing.

Rhys was getting up, the body laying beneath him was shaking, turned away from me, I couldn't see his face. "You didn't injure him?" 

"Only bruises." 

I nodded, he had shifted to his other form, at least partially, to subdue him, which meant he had...

I looked at his throat, it was bare. He noticed my gaze, and opened his mouth, but before he could form any sounds, I waved him away. I'll hear what he had to say when I was ready. The middle of the night was certainly not what I would call a favorable time. I turned to Aloise, "Do something about Ray's arm." Injured ones first. And the smell of blood wasn't leaving me in the best of moods, it was everywhere, the brat lost a lot of blood.

I followed Aloise out, ordering the slave each back to his room. I watched as Aloise tended to his arm, it was a shallow cut, but vast. There was a chance of it leaving a scar. "Sleep with him tonight." Aloise nodded  readily, and taking that as a permission to speak, he started babbling, "It was an accident. He didn't mean it. He didn't know what he was doing. He-"

But I was already out of the room, the closed space was too small for me. 

"To the dungeons." I told Rhys, pointing at Dante, the slave hadn't moved since I came in. Which was, so far, his smartest move. "Carry him if you must."


	10. Chapter 10

The second time I woke up, it was eight in the morning, a much more sensible time to be expected to work. When I was woken up hours ago, I only had dealt with the issues the new boy had created for me partially, locking him up in chains and in a cage and kept Rhys as a watch guard. It wouldn't do to have a hysterical slave in my house, especially not with my niece under the same roof. And I refused to even think of what my future bride would say to that, especially now that she was bound to show up any day. Soraya had found my grimace every time she mentioned the name Abbot, amusing. And so she kept adding little fine details and telling me about them whenever convenient. Even though my sister was supposed to be the one handling the Abotts and whatever details came with them. 

Akira, by the time I came back to the room, had went back to sleep, and so did the slave he held so close. I was this close to waking Lee up and having him sleep in the floor, I wanted to hold my lover. But waking Lee up would wake Akira up, and that just wouldn't do. So I slept, the slave between us, serving as a fence of flesh. 

I took a shower, and changed to a clean pair of slacks before Akira blinked, untangling himself from Lee, and came behind me, one arm circling my bare torso, and another sneaking up to my hair, running his fingers through it, "You need a haircut." He whispered.

I met his eyes in the mirror, "Funny coming from you." His hair was inches longer than shoulder-length.

"It suits me." He countered, voice thick with sleep. "You look better in a buzz cut. Like military men. Shows off your cheekbones."

I let my head fall back to his shoulder turning to give him a kiss, he returned it. The angle was quite uncomfortable, and so we broke off much sooner than I would've liked. 

I turned, but before we could lock lips again, he asked, "Is the slave OK?"

"What slave?" I teased, kissing him again, he allowed it, but when we broke off again, he repeated the question. And then some, "It's the new one, isn't it? The one you called a whipping boy?"

"Yes."

"And?" His eyes expectant.

"It was a slave's quarrel. I didn't catch much of the details, honestly. But he broke another's arm, Rhys pinned him down and it's all unicorns and rainbows now." I assured him. "Everything is fine."

He raised an eyebrow, "Unicorns and rainbows?"

"I'm a gay man." I'm allowed to use the terminology I find serves the function. 

A shadow passed over his face, but before I could acquire, he moved on, "Why were they fighting?"

"More like," I scoffed "tickling each other. They really shouldn't have sounded that alarm. And my guards needed my fingerprints to gain access."

But he wasn't listening to me, not that I was surprised, Akira rarely listened to me. "He broke an arm." It wasn't a question. 

I answered anyway, moving closer to kiss his lips, "Yes." He turned and it landed on his cheek. Frowning, I tried again, but he only took a step back. 

"You hurt him. It isn't enough that you hurt their bodies. You had to go and hurt their feelings, too." And there we go again. 

Rolling my eyes, I turned to find my shirt. My eyes landed on Lee, he scrambled off the bed and moved to my closet at my hand signal. I followed him, not because I needed to show him where to look, he knew my rooms by heart, but to get away from Akira's disapproving gaze. 

Speaking of Akira, "I mean, I get it. You're a sadist. You have to hit them to get off. And I'm not saying I'm OK with that. But at least, then, You provide aftercare." 

Aftercare, insert an eyeroll for me please.

I only ever started taking their straps and ropes off myself recently, sometimes, when he was around, I'd even apply the salve on their backs myself, then carry them to a bed. If I was feeling extra gracious, I'd let them into my shower. But that was as far as my aftercare went. I didn't whisper in their ears soft and sweet, I didn't rock them back and forth and have a lullaby sang for them.

There was a time when I believed that Akira got off showering them with kisses. I thought he enjoyed cuddling more than he enjoyed ejaculating. It was bizarre. 

And I had to admit, being in each other's arm was, indeed, joyous, but it was nowhere near a blow job. 

"-mean on purpose." He was still at it, going as far as to follow me to my closet, "Are you even listening to me?"

I shook Lee's hand off as he tried to button me up, and turned to my enraged boyfriend, "Yes. Absolutely. You want me to hug my boys goodnight, tuck them into bed with a kiss, and then wait til they fall asleep before I turn off the light."

He shook his head. And was about to open his mouth again, when I interjected. "I'm not discussing this with you. You have a weak stomach, I get it, so I don't slap them more than necessary when you're around." I should've known he never meant to harm any boy's back last night. How have I thought he really wanted to whip someone. "But they are my slaves. They're here to service me. Not the other way around. And speaking of services," My hand coming down on Lee's shoulder, I pushed him to his knees, he went without a peep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this fiction, please leave me kudos and comments.


	11. Chapter 11

The dungeon was barely lit when I came down to visit. It was mid day, but given that there no windows underground, it was only expected.

I knew for a fact that Rhys hadn't been excused to sleep, nor eat, nothing that will hurt him, though. I knew his limits and stamina, he was a hybrid, this would have been a picnic for him. And I was right, of course. He was bouncing a small ball to the floor, then the wall, seemingly enjoying the practice. 

He turned when he heard my steps, however, smiling broadly at me. "There you are, Sir. I need a bathroom break. Like, really, really badly."

"Ransacked my drinks, did we?"

My tone was teasing, he knew I wasn't irate, but I hadn't  given him leave, either. His face contracted, "Please, Sir."

Ignoring his question, I turned to his charge, naked, and huddled in a cage small enough for him to sit on his knees comfortably with his back straight, but wouldn't allow him to stand. Or stretch his hands or legs. I barely used that cage anymore, it was there for as long as I remember. That being said, I wasn't the one who brought it, or places it here. But it seemed only proper with the situation I was put in last night.

My eyes on Dante, "So," I wondered, "What was it that set our boy alight?"

"They agitated him." Rhys answered me, his voice strained, "a little teasing, here and there. And he wasn't in the right set of mind."

"My boys?" I found that hard to believe, my boys were like a mother hen, cuddled in each other's protection and warmth whenever possible. It didn't matter that he was new, they usually took the new as their own pretty damn quickly. 

"They saw the the scales on his back, they were a little put back." 

I turned to him, countering, "They've seen your wolf."

"Yes, but I'm-" He hesitated,  "I was there first, and they've seen good sides of m . Dante came off as a bit aloof."

"Aloof?"

He shrugged, "For lack of better description."

"How so?"

"Well, you know how they get very excited about the TV and WiFi and, well, everything else." I nodded, he went on, "He just sat there, and nodded, for two weeks, barely came out of his room. Doesn't sit with them or talks."

"Aloise seemed fond with him." I said, remembering the boy's desperate defense of him.

"Aloise is the only one he warmed up to. And even then, well. They don't spend all that much time together."

"So what set it off," I asked at last, "They saw his back, so?"

"They called him a fish." Rhys whispered. "Then another one said that he'd only ever be good for beatings, since, you know," his eyes went to the cage, "he's got thick skin."

Rhys fidgeted in his place, his eyes darting to Dante again, then back to me. 

"You can go." I allowed at last. 

He spun, going to the exit, but before he left, "They tease each other all the time. No hard feelings or any-"

"You can go, Rhys." 

And then he left. 

Leisurely walking to the corner, I let the slave out. His movement were stiff, he knelt on the floor by the metal cage, not making a sound, and never looking up. "You can stand up, stretch your muscles."

I grabbed a soda from my mini fridge, popping the lid open and chugging half of it. By the time I turned again, he was up and moving, but only for seconds before he knelt again. His head was too low to allow him any view of me, so cocking my fingers to order him beside me would be useless, "To me," I said, and he crawled closer.

I raised his head enough before lowering the can to his lips, I let him have few sips, watering his dry lips. He drank hesitantly, careful of my hand withdrawing at any moment. I let him has his fill before leaing us both to my armchair, where I had him kneel by me. His hands were shaking as he placed them both on his thighs, but he was otherwise stable.

"Do you have something to add to Rhys' version of the story?"

His voice so quiet, he said, "No, Sir"

"And you do realize, that I only took you in because you can take more than the ones I own? You may be good for other things, but this is the main reason I fancy you, you realize this, yes?" 

He said nothing, and didn't move the slightest. For a second, I thought he had stopped breathing, for his chest wasn't moving. His skin was warm to touch when I put my hand on his shoulder. "That was a question," I told him.

"Yes, Sir." He said at last. "I know."

"That being said, why would you be mad if someone pointed it out?" 

He didn't answer, and I was all too happy to say, "You know what I think? I think your skin was made to be your greatest strength and advantage. I think it should give you pride, not shame you. I wouldn't reprimand them for stating facts, because even though they said it for all the wrong reasons, they were right. You're cherished for reasons they'll never be able to match.

"It was petty of them to point it out, but you're in the wrong here, not them. And for damaging my property, you'll be punished."

I gave my slaves free lane, and it showed in the way they dressed and the rooms they stayed in. I didn't withhold food, unnecessary cruelty didn't, in my opinion, equal getting better service. I had much more creative ways to punish. It put starvation to shame. 

But perhaps I should take a different route with this one. He wasn't like the others to begin with, and placing him there was a mistake. There was also the fact that Soraya, along with my sister, proclaimed him unstable and unfit for service. In any other situation, and with another slave, I would've agreed to sell him. But I didn't. 

Because the reason I brought him still stand. He was there to get the steam off, and that was exactly how he'd be treated. I've made a mistake putting him in a situation he wasn't used to, or trained for. 

"You'll be stripped of all privileges I gave you when you arrived. I'm feeling generous, and so you'll be getting food twice a day, but apart from that, you'll start earning everything else and will be kept in that cage at all times. Until, that is you earn a mattress. Understood?"

I waited for his response, and he nodded gravely. My tut showed my displeasure, and he spoke, "I understand, Sir."

"Verbal." I reproached, "When I ask a question, you answer it verbally. Your answer when I order something depends on the situation, and you'll learn when to affirm my order in time. But for now, you answer my questions verbally, yes?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I've neglected you these past few days, and haven't bothered with instructions on how to behave." I say,  "So here's another note, When you lower your head, you don't lower your eyes with them. You need to at least be able to see my hands in your peripheral vision, if I so wished you to follow me, or order you to come, the fingers will tell you."


	12. Chapter 12

Lamar whimpered, his hands twitching on his sides. He knew better than to try and pull away, however, and so his only way of sending me subtle messages telling me that he was reaching a limit were soft sounds emitted from his throat. 

I pulled away, watching as the little wound on his neck oozed little more blood. Circling his wrist with one arm, I used the other to snatch a gauze saturated with alcohol, and wipe away, before pressing it to his neck and using the tape to keep it in place. It was all part of the ritual I started a few years ago, designed to keep them alive longer. 

A slave, precisely a human, would be too weak to do any of the care-taking himself after too much blood withdrawn, they usually passed out. It was one of the mistakes I committed often as a youngster, leaving them with a bleeding neck or arm that desperately needed attending. 

Without the support of my body, I had no doubt Lamar would've slid to the floor halfway through the session. He couldn't give as much as Alois gave, or half of what Dante's body could. In fact, the last two weeks had proved that I could probably take my fill from Dante one day and one day out, and he'd still be up and going not two minutes later. With that said, I could have him be my sole blood provider without affecting his day to day health. Wallis hadn't lied when it came to that particular trait.

But I had grown accustomed to tasting different types that by the third time I had Dante, I was ready to move on. 

I laid him on the bed, his eyes were open, a dreamy look in them, as he'd been moonstruck, it was something I was used to seeing often. 

"You did well." I found that praise made them try harder next time, for the fear of disappointing, apparently, almost was as pressing as the fear of punishment and consequences if they messed up.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head. And brushing his hair away from his sweaty forehead, I ordered, "Rest now, you're weak. We'll talk tomorrow." I'll be skinning you alive tomorrow.

The bandages on his arm only came off yesterday, but the raw, scarred skin was easily noticeable. And will be for a long time. It was an ugly scar, and whether he'll be admitting the misdeed that led him to acquiring it, or whining about the man who gave it to him, would remain til tomorrow. I hadn't seen him since that night I was woken up from my slumber. And ever since I've started giving the slaves the extra attention of setting them to bed and allowing monthly trips outside the house to places of their choosing, they've been more forthcoming. Not that I listened to what they had to say, usually waving them off. It didn't deter them, usually, for whatever they had to ask for was trivial and basic, and was granted eventually. 

I stood up, and opening the package I'd received only that morning, I got out the gas mask with the little modification I asked for. The cylindrical piece came attached to a piece where I could put my crushed happy pills in.

I'd been planning this for few days, and now that I had the means to do it, I could wait no longer. My eagerness to leave the room down to the dungeon was too apparent, it seemed, because my sister's frown as she stopped me was not pretty. "You look in a good mood."

"I am. And right now, you're distracting me from th main course of my meal."

"You didn't sell him." She wasn't asking. 

"I had iron bars installed at the place of the door and have him chained to the floor at all times of the day."

She wasn't deterred, "That's not what we agreed on."

"He only lashed out because he was poked. There's no one to poke him in solitary. And that's where I've been keeping him."

"Adam." She breathed, her demeanor told me she didn't believe she was even having this conversation in the first place,  "My kids live under this same roof. You can't put them in the line of danger just so you could have your fun." 

"You want proof he's as broken in as he'll ever be?"

"I want proof that he'd never hurt my children."

"I can deliver that."

She arched a disbelieving eyebrow, and I waved her off, I wasn't waiting any longer to get what I had in mind in motion. Her angry steps away were proof she doubted me, but was willing to let it run its course.

The metal was well oiled, so the door didn't creek when I moved it open. Dante sat right where I left him, as if he hadn't moved an inch, but I knew that wasn't true. He had eaten and had a bathroom break not two hours ago. 

He smiled when his eyes landed on me, and that always left unanswered confusion in my mind. How could he be so happy to see me when I often braught nothing but pain and blood to that dungeon, it was a mystery remaining to be solved. Or perhaps it was clear as the day, he was the one, as his handler promised. 

"We're playing today." I greeted, getting him out. He crawled out of his cage, and sat on his knees, glancing up at me. I didn't mind the eye contact, I encouraged it more often than not. And he's become familiar with my moods, enough to know when it was safe to meet my eyes.

"Get up, first, you can stretch." He was sore from being left there for a along time. I knew his muscled to be cramped. 

He obeyed, and I took the time to appreciate his shapely legs and thighs, my eyes roaming and landing on his pierced nipples, they gleamed a bright gold. They've long since healed, and playing with them has become a favorite sport of mine, he produced the sweetest of sounds when he was given leave to relax.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always appreciate feedback, good or bad. Please leave a comment to let me know what you think of this fiction so far.

"Hand and knees." I instructed, and he obeyed with the grace he could muster, he wasn't necessarily accustomed to the arts of a pleasure slave, and was more used to being treated as a slab of meat, instead of a valued prize. Not that it seemed to deter him, or that he noticed. 

Alone in my thoughts, I'd crawled that if he were living among humans, he'd either be a convicted criminal for stalking, or a very devoted husband. Could never decide on which.

"Arch your back," he obeyed, his spine imitating a cat's. "More." And he tried, but that was the utmost his body could give. I ran my hand along the scales, noting as they tickled my fingers and the inside of my palm. A tremor went along his body, and I found it endearing, continuing to do so. 

I reached for the small crop I brought with me and bent to allow him a look. "I bought this especially for you." It wasn't a lie, I got it out from my old treasury of kink items. Ones I've stopped using when I had decided to stop the tormenting games that ended in someone's permanent injury. But since this one had thick skin, I thought maybe I could try my hand again, and see if perhaps I still could find it as exhilarating as I used to.  

I wasn't expecting him to answer, but perhaps after the detailed explanation Wallis had given, I should've, "I didn't think you would, sir."

"Didn't think I would what?"

"You would play, Sir." He answered, "I'm excited."

"We'll see about that." But he wouldn't change his mind. "My sister seems to think that it's a bad idea to keep you here. What's with you being a violent one."

He didn't have a answer to that. I hit him once, the sound vibrating through the walls. "The game is as following," I announced, "I hit you til skin breaks, once it does, I move on to another part."

"Yes, Sir."

"We'll place a bet." 

He crooked his head, turning it to look at me, "I'm not sure I understand."

"I say how many it's going to take to break the skin. You counter it. And we see who was right." I had played that same game before, except, it was against my friends, never against the man I was hitting. 

He nodded, "What does the winner get, Sir?" 

I didn't think long. "I grant you a wish." 

He nodded, concentrating. 

"We'll start at the back." He arched higher, inviting my strokes. And I set a number. He countered it with a higher one. And I hit enough times to break a human's skin twice over, but his skin only bruised, each time the bruised flesh becoming darker. 

His cries were muffled where he kept his mouth pressed to his shoulder. I put an end to that as soon as he started it. "I like the cries. I'll tell you when I want you silent."

And he nodded, giving me what I wanted. "Your previous owner disagreed?"

"I was to be silent during the beatings.  Sometimes not. Depends." He paused, "I'm not familiar with your ownership yet, Sir. I can't tell when I'm to do what."

"With time."

I announced him a winner when finally a drop of blood tricked after a strike number far higher than I predicted. 

I crouched down, licking it off and sending a shiver through his body, shaking him where the beating didn't.

I flipped him over, moving him to a stool, where I could have better access, and continued. Soon, I decided that the game was proving more a task than not, and quit after the second loss, tossing the crop away. 

His eyes followed me as I went to sit down, questioning. He was about to open his mouth to ask, when I admitted loss in my own power play, then motioned him over. 

He crawled to me, then rested his head on my thigh when I pushed him so, running my hand through his hair, before stopping when I realized that I couldn't do so without pulling his strands off his scalp, he hadn't ran a comb in his head for a long time, I concluded. 

He tilted his head upwards, then, and the hopeful look in his eyes bewildered me. "More games?" 

A dry laugh escaped me as I gazed down at him. "Haven't you had enough?" 

His lips twitched, and in normal circumstances I would've thought it a smile, but he couldn't possibly be smiling. His blood hasn't even dried yet. My gaze lingered down, and I found he still maintained a hard on, erect and proud. 

Unconciousy, and as if I was to make him pay for my loss, I found my foot moving to nudge his balls, teasing it. It gave a little jerk, and pre cụm oozed from the tip. It entrancing enough that I did it again, then again, before moving my shoed foot to grind it under, a whine escaped him. And as if through a haze, I was no longer the conquered, but the conqueror. 

Instead of the cries he gave me as I stroked him, I found these new sounds much better, I was drawn to them, and so found myself grinding again, then lifting off to inspect the pained balls. 

I touched the enraged length and flicked it, and another sound, this one coming muffled, as he'd come to rest his mouth at the inside of my thigh, closer to my own package. 

I lift off, "Unbuckle me." And his hands went to work, fingers fumbling. He wasn't this disoriented when I was inflicting pain, hitting him to,draw blood out. 

He didn't hesitate when it was out, careful on his teeth, he swallowed the half hardened length whole, with little resistance on his gag reflex, then immediately started bobbing his head. 

Grabbing for his hair, I pulled him back, completely lifting off, "Easy." I cautioned as soon as he met my eyes. "We're in no hurry."

He nodded, then again went down, this time at a slower pace, but still too quick for my liking. And again, I pulled him off. 

"Sorry, sorry, Sir."

I cautioned,  "You tease first, don't swallow down the whole of if before I'm fully hardened."

He nodded hastily, "Sorry, Sir. I'll try again, Sir."

He licked, then, hesitantly, placed a tentative kiss on the head, before licking again, I patted his head, and let him have his way of it before growing impatient. He had an inexperienced way of tending to it, like a task to be done with as soon as he possibly could, and I didn't enjoy that kind of attention.


	14. Chapter 14

I left him with Rhys to teach him what I liked best. Partially because I didn't want to take the time to teach him myself and partially because I thought Rhys deserved the treat. A boy to do his bidding and for him to play with, he'd be beyond busy in the next few days. 

I thought I would check on their progress every night, and have my fill of him, too.

Soraya found me before I could disappear to my bedroom, and was there with a list of things that I've missed intentionally throughout the past few days.

"The house needs renovation." She started. "Especially the east wing, it's-"

"I did that not two years ago, I don't see reason for the outlandish expenses you have written." I walked faster, but she wasn't deterred. 

"Renovated all the parts that you spent time in. The ballroom and the two guest rooms and the suit that you'll share with your bride are all untouched."

The suit that my parents had used back when they were togetherbrought nothing but unwanted memories, ones that I've kept under lock and key. It was why I never went through the trouble of renewing anything when I took things off my father's hands. 

All my memories of my mother were of her in either her suit or the ballroom, for she loved throwing parties. It was why I only ever had my own parties in a club, and never used the room. 

The woman who gave me birth made her thoughts of me known, she detested me, and my ways. 

Soraya went on, "When your bride comes, she'll see that you've made the effort to make her feel at home."

"I think she'll feel more at home if I let her decorate them herself."I countered. 

Soraya was quiet for mere two seconds before she started talked again, "There's also the issue of the wedding gift."

I couldn't believe she was bringing this up, "We still have months til they arrive, and another year until we're actually married. I don't see why the rush."

"Two months." She said quickly.

"And three weeks."

It was like she didn't even hear me, "It has to be very special. It's going to mark a union of two families. The Hussienes brought their bride a moon's stone. That's very rare, and-"

We were at my room's door, and I was ready to keep all her battering behind me. "I know what Omar brought Nadia." The man is my best friend, "I was there." 

"Well, then you must have an idea."

I looked at her, unbelieving, "Are you done?"

"I actually am not."

I was already behind the door, so she couldn't do anything when I pushed it shut. I couldn't take anymore of her, I had to force her away if she wasn't going to do that herself. 

My room wasn't soundproof, and I could still hear her threatening from the other side. "I'll see you at seven a.m. sharp tomorrow. We're not done talking yet." 

I shook my head, running both hands through my hair. She was right, of course, but I could always pretend that the next day wasn't until a long, long time. 

The thoughts of my mother still haunted me. And I wondered, perhaps for the hundredth time why I had stayed in this house at all. All the extravagance that it offered dwindled whenever I remembered my mother. 

She was never kind, per se, but she was definitely caring and available whenever I needed her, for as long as I was tame. 

She was always vocal about her dislike of my father's way, that she'd feared I'd turn out like him, cruel and cold. She always repeated that she stayed with the Smith monster only because she loved my sister and I more than she hated him. 

It was why I suppressed my urges for as long as I did, why I attended dancing lessons when I'd much rather go with father on his haunting trips. Why I pretended to care for girls and rub her little white cat even though I hated the very image of it. 

But the facade could only last for as long as I was willing to keep it. And I could keep hiding my true natureonly for so long. And after my first kill, I found that my love for causing pain far surpassed my love for inattentive attention, and I snapped. 

It still hurt, to find that your mother wouldn't take you in as you were and envelope you for what you've become. 

She remarried soon after she left, and now she has two new shining sons to hold at her side like trophies. 

I tried not to think about it as much as I did, or to let it get o me as it had, but with little to no success. 

The breakups after Mother left became hard to bear, and every time I lost a friend or a lover, every time they pointed at my slaves and screaming that they could take it no more, it was like they poured salt at the already open wound, and her image would rush back, taunting me. 

My father found solace after she left spending time with me. He tried, and failed, in teaching me that there was nothing wrong with gaining pleasure by causing pain. 

Some days are better than others, where I take his words in my stride, and believe in what he taught. Other days were nightmares.


	15. Chapter 15

Soraya was still talking about the bridal gift when I woke up. 

I had thought, that as a man willing to marry a girl I had no interest in for the sake of the family and its name, that I would get at least a lick of appreciation. But no such luck, Soraya acted as if she were the one offering favors for her non-stop talk of the coming wedding. 

"I conducted a list of all the offering that seemed remarkable, and that had people talking for sometime. The most obvious choice is, of course, jewellery. So I've called the two stores you deal with most, and asked them to send us brochures of what they're offering. They have..."

I buried my head under the pillow, she snatched it away. Sometimes I wondered who, between the two of us, was the one paying the other. 

"As I was saying,"

"It's my weekend. You can't force me to do this on a weekend."

"This is not a meeting." She said, voice exasperated, "It's a viewing. They're sending their best jewels. All you have to do is choose!"

"I'm going out today," I told her, "And so should you. It's your day off."

"I live here, Mr Adam." She reminded. 

"Right." I got up, sitting up. I motioned for Lamar, who was standing just out of the way, "Please show Soraya out."

As Lamar moved to grab her upper arm gently, guiding her to the door.

"You can't be serious." She shrieked, and pushed him away, angry and disbelieving, "let go of me you fucking asshole." 

She slapped him, and before he could do anything but touch his cheek, she was out of the room. Soraya wasn't usually this dramatic in comebacks, so I had to assume that today was just a bad day. 

Lamar was still standing where she left him when I came out of my shower, his face ashen, and in a daze. I had to click my fingers twice for him to finally snap out of it. And when he finally did, he said, "She's mad at me, Sir."

"Yes." I agreed. 

"She's never hit me before." 

"If I don't get my cloths in ten seconds I'll hit you myself."

That seemed to do the trick, for he sprinted for my wardrobe. He smiled dreamily he buttoned my shirt. Generally, I don't need someone to help me dress, I'm capable of doing so myself. But it's the weekend, he was here, and as long as he didn't make too much skin contact, I was fine with it.  
"I want you to get me Rhys," I told Lamar. Rhys was the only one around that I could trust to handle Dante, especially with my sister's warning still ringing in my ear. I thought perhaps Rhys could lose the collar, too, since it obviously kept his moves limited. If I'm about to make him Dante's appointed guard, I might as well go all the way.

I went on. "Tell him to find something presentable for Dante to wear. And to bring him here."

"Dante?"

This time, I did slap him, pushing him away and pointing to the door. I'd do my own damn buttons. It wasn't worth it. Lamar hasn't been the same since the incident with Dante, he's been skittish and easily frightened. That, alongside his constant distractions was not a good combination in a slave. Especially a slave that I owned. He's become even more of a nausea than Lee. 

He had to go, and soon.

At least he delivered the message, as Rhys did appear minutes later, Dante alongside him, carrying a bundle of cloths. Rhys had a smirk that I hadn't seen on him for a long, long time.

"I wasn't sure what presentable was, Sir." Rhys said, as a way of explaining, pointing to Dante. "So I brought a few options." 

"Thank you, indeed." I answered, "But do refrain from parading him around the house naked next time." Not that I minded the view in the least, but I wasn't living alone or in a dormitory anymore.

"I only made him disrobe when we reached your door, Sir." That explains the rustling I heard outside, at least. Clearly, Rhys was taking what I told him about training Dante seriously, too seriously. 

"You two having fun?" I asked.

Dante had the ever lasting emotionless expression on his face. He rarely, if ever, let me know what he thought from just looking. Only after I skinned him to an inch of his lives is he finally give me a feel of what's really going on in his mind. He appeared calm, now, though. As far as I could tell. But before he could answer me, Rhys jumped in, "We're making progress."

"Are you now?" As I walked to the bed where he laid the cloths for me to see. I pointed at the black slacks and and a dark green shirt. "These will do."

"He's a fast learner," He proceeded to tell me what he's been doing as Dante started pulling on the pants. "I think I've got him covered on the suckling area. He's got a lot in his pocket, just didn't know how to use it."

"No trouble?"

"Not at all." But he said it too quickly, and I turned to look at him, he had a grimace on his face.

"What is it?"

"Alois," He said after a slight pause. "He tried to get in, last night. He was trying to check in on him."

I turned to Dante, he was still buttoning down the shirt, it fit him perfectly, showing off his shoulders and made a nice contrast with his skin tone. Dark green was his colour, I decided. 

I made him turn a full circle before I moved to grab his chin, "Was that the first time he tried to see you?"

"Yes, master." He didn't try to defend Alois, however, not like the other boy had tried to convince me of Dante's good intentions. It was like Dante didn't have his best interest in mind, as if he hasn't left a lasting impression or didn't care enough. 

I was starting to understand why the other boys weren't big fans of Dante's. He was, indeed, aloof. For lack of better terms.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating every Thursday!  
> Feedback is always welcome.   
> I hope you enjoy reading this part as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I'd spent my last few weeks in the dungeons with no cloths anywhere around, and so when Rhys ordered me into a pair of shorts and a shirt, I knew something was up. And I asked. 

Rhys was only my teacher, he wasn't my Master, and he answered when I asked questions. And I didn't think it was because he was following orders from my Master. He could easily have me do all he thought would please our owner, and not interact at all. I knew that from experience.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"You are," he said. "I'm only the escort."

Pulling on the t-shirt, I asked again, "Where am I going?"

I was half expecting him to ignore my question, since he was already pulling me with him, dumping a few layers of cloths in my arm, but he didn't. "The Master is taking you with him. It'll be a friendly setting, don't worry."

I wasn't worried. But I liked to be prepared. "Does he do that often?"

"Do what?"

"Take slaves with him to friendly settings."

"Not generally." Rhys answered. 

The next question was pretty obvious, "So why is he taking me?"

"I don't make a habit of questioning my Master's motives, Dante." He looked at me, blue hair shinier than ever. I wondered if I'd still have been made to cut my hair if it was as silky as his, Or if I were as favored as him. He went on, "And neither should you."

I didn't ask again, and he made me strip as soon as we made it to the door. 

My master did a double take of my outfit after he chose it, and nodded his liking. It was a nice change of demeanor from the nonchalant, uncaring version of him. And I took it as a good sign. 

We didn't linger long, and only passed through his office for him to pick up a bound envelope before we left. 

I hadn't eaten that morning, and apparently, neither had he. Because he drove into a drive through not thirty minutes later. 

He ordered for us both. And just as I was finished eating and wrapping up, he turned the music down. "Tell me about your breeding house," he said. 

Wondering what this was about, I had to stop and think for a moment, why the sudden interest. He barely saw me throughout the past week, and the one before. He'd completely left me for someone else to worry about. I could've contemplated his reasons for ever, but he was still waiting for an answer, and so I gave him one. 

"I wasn't raised in one, Sir. I don't know much about breeding houses."

"You didn't drop from the sky."

A voice in my head whispered that he's only joking, but I still had hardship answering. "No, Sir."

"Well then where do you hail from?"

"My first master got me when I was young. I don't remember who my original owners were."

"And neither do your papers remember." he said, "Your first Master was  Thomas Murphy. Any idea why he'd get himself an untrained infant slave?"

I shook me head, "I don't know, Sir."

He continued, "One with visible markings on his back, at that."

"There were two of us." I told him, a thought occurring to me suddenly, distracting me, and blurting out information he hadn't asked for, "he had the cook look after us when we were younger."

"But he didn't train you, not like a slave should be trained."

"Yes," I nodded, "I think he was planning to enroll us in some program, but he died before any of that happened."

"The one he bought alongside you," he asked, "is he like you?"

I knew what he was talking about before he had to clarify. It was quite obvious. "The other one didn't have scales on its back."

"But he had something?"

The thought wouldn't leave me, since the moment it sparked, it stayed, "Are you selling me, Sir?"

His eyes abAndoned the road to find mine. "You don't answer a question with a question. I'd think Rhys would've taught you that by now."

He had. But the idea that accrued refused to leave me. And so I said nothing, but could only hold for seconds before I crumbled, "The other one had genes of a half breed. But we never got to know, because it never showed any signs of it altering its physical appearance." 

Master Thomas was disappointed, to say the least. He'd bought us as a part of a matched set. He didn't like it when his plans hadn't gone the way he'd wanted them to. 

"It all appeared at the same time, your scales?"

"I've always had tough skin, and after, the scales appeared. They haven't grown much since I was thirteen." 

He was quite for a while after, and in sat in silence as he drove, before he broke it, "I'm taking you to see someone. See what's really up with you. He's an old friend, and has some experience with half breeds."


	17. Chapter seventeen

My master was more chatty than usual throughout the journey. He disliked long periods of silence of he wasn't the one imposing and demanding them. So he talked, telling me about his college friends, and how they've growns so close that they decided to keep in touch even after they all found their laces in the world. And how they arranged for monthly meet ups where they could catch up with each other. 

If I had thought I knew my Master at all, the car ride proved me wrong. He wasn't a complete stranger all of a sudden. And although the halo of a formidable vampire was still there, I felt the ice break just a bit. Men I knew didn't talk to their slaves or share memories he described as precious to him. I understood it wasn't a show off sort of situation, of friends of association hooked or vested interests, but something different. 

We drove for the first half of the day, and didn't arrive at our destination until late afternoon. I didn't know why I had thought the place we were going to would be more extravagant than this. Perhaps because my own Master lived in a castle with dungeons attached, and dated a Japanese supermodel with a harem on the side. 

There weren't skyscrapers around us anymore, but two story houses with backyards and a small front lawn. And although mentioned lawns were perfectly manicured and each house clearly cost a fortune, they were nowhere near what I've been staying for the past couple of months. 

The house we stopped out only stood up in the part where it was secluded, and had higher walls surrounding it for privacy.

My master parked, and honked the horn twice before he turned the car off and motioned for me to get out. I was grateful for the direction. I've seen slaves punished for initiating something they based on an assumption, something like opening their own door without a direct order. 

The man who opened the door was slight, with a glint in the eye that rated out his werewolf heritage in a blink. I identified him as a slave from the collar he wore, but quickly re-assisted when my Master greeted him. 

"Hello, Luca." My master didn't greet slaves. At least, not in my head. It didn't fit the profile I had.

"Welcome," Luca answered, "Please come in." 

No honorific, no cowering. The more I looked into the situation, the more confused I became. The slave stepped aside to let my Master and I pass, his smile growing warmer as his eyes traveled from my Master to me.

The house was as mundane in the inside as it was in the outside. We passed a kitchen, then a dining room, before we entered a living room, where four men and a woman sat, scattered on the few seats.

One stood, clearly the winner of the house, welcoming my Master in, the slave that opened our door disappeared, and our host moved to bring my Master a drink.

He looked around in wonder as soon as they finished their round of greetings, and asked, "No Daniel today?"

"He'll be here." One of the men sitting answered. "Just a bit late."

"Good." My master nodded, moving to sit down, and placing a hand on me to guide me with him. I sat between his knees, and he rested his hand on my shoulder. "I need him in a consultation."

"What did you do?" The same man asked. 

"I bought a slave, Jude."

Our host ran a his eyes over my body, a smirk playing on his lips, "He looks intact to me." 

"He looks cheap to me." The woman drawled, "Where'd you get him?"

"He was given to me," My master said, running his fingers over my scalp. "The Allens."

"How cute." She commented dryly. "What do you need Daniel for?" 

"He's a half breed. I need-"

She cut him off before he could finish, "Half breed of what?"

"That's what I'm planning to ask Daniel."

The man perched on the far side of the wall spoke for the first time, "You mean you don't know? Didn't the Allens bring his documents alongside him? The council is issuing serious fines for unregistered slaves."

The woman laughed joylessly, speaking before my Master could,  "You don't wanna pay what they're issuing for him. That sort of money could be saved to buy three. Best dump him somewhere."

Again, before my Master could say anything, our host answered her. "What's up your ass today, woman. Give it a break."

The host was clearly a slave sympathiser, one who pampered his slave to the point where he couldn't even greet guests properly, and take offense when someone belittled a slave that wasn't even his. I didn't understand what my Master Had in common with this man, clearly not his ownership ideologies. 

Her words didn't hurt me, I was used to being talked about over my head, and words much worse would be exchanged. She posed no threat at all, if anything, her demeanor was the most I was comfortable with, compared the host's defenses. 

"Yea, Lizzy, what's up your ass today?" But it was only a rhetorical question, because he went on, "He's registered. His origins are just unknown, and some of his information is missing."

"You contacted the database?" One asked, "they could give you original files. If he's been registered since birth, they'd have all the info you need."

"Not since birth, no." My master answered. "That's why I need Daniel."


	18. Chapter eighteen

The man my Master had brought me there to see never showed up, but the day was far from bland.

I was told to go to the kitchen to help with the food, and there I met Luca. Joseph's boy. And he was, indeed, his boy in all things that counted. He was a pretty boy, and it took very little time for me to realize he was an R1. You smell those miles away. Impeccable and perfect and just oozing the fruits of being a favorite, and probably an only, slave. 

As much as I tried to hate him at first glance, I couldn't. He was much too sweet to be mingling with the likes of me anyway, but that didn't seem to set him off, neither did my overall stuff attitude towards him. If anything, he only tried harder to be helpful. He was cheerful, and a talkative one at that. 

"My master is in such good mood today. He'd missed the last three gatherings, and haven't seen these people for sometime," He looked at me, all smiles. "It's  why we haven't met before. You're new, yes?"

I took no pains in deciding that I wasn't going to tell him that I hadn't seen him before because I was locked up in a seller for the pasts few weeks, and that this was my first outing with my Master, ever. And I wouldn't be here if it weren't for the fact that my Master wanted me thoroughly checked. And instead asked, "You've been with him long?"

I didn't care much how long he was with him, but talking about him may lead to talking about his Master, and in turn, talking about mine. The talkative mood my master had been in when we were in the car had turned curious wheels in my head, and maybe this one  would help. 

"For as long as I can remember. I was a gift, and he never let me go." 

No one lets an R1 go. That's for folks like me. But I didn't say that, either. 

"I knew your Master," He went on to say, "back in their college days, I mean. He was the baddie of the group."

I bet. 

"I remember," he stopped, chopped away at his vegetables. I waited, but he didn't say more.

Any other day, and I would've let it go. But I was in a strange land with strange people who treated much differently than what I was used to. It wasn't the way I was used to things, and it has left me shaky and disoriented. So I pushed on, "You remember?"

"He had his moments." And left it at that. 

But I was adamant in getting the scraps of information that the slaves back home won't give me, or just didn't know about. "He had a different slave back then?"

"Yes." Luca smiled a little too brightly. "I wasn't allowed to speak to him often, but when I did, he was very sweet to me. Poor Kris, he deserved better. Another Master, I believe, would've treasured him. He was so loyal, to the very last-" But then he stopped, a gray cloud passing his feature, clouding the happy exterior that seemed to be wrapped around him like a drape. And he went silent. 

I was beginning to worry that he won't say no more, or that his Master would come in and see him this upset. Favorites are dangerous, even when they looked friendly and welcoming. But then he spoke;

"I shouldn't," he, said, refusing to look at me. "I sometimes am treated beyond my stature, that I forget my rightful place. No slave should speak of his betters, he's the friend of my Master and Lord." He looked at me, his voice hard as stone, "And you shouldn't be asking questions about your Master that he doesn't want answered. I ought to report you, and surrender myself for punishment for my disloyalty."

And there it was. The reason men offered so much for a chance to own a slave of the first Rank. There was the reason he was superior to the others. Tears were beginning to gather in his eyes, his shoulders shook, and he looked visibly upset. I sneaked a worried look at the door then came around to be closer to him. There were no other slaves that I could ask what to do, and so it was up to me to find a way out of this. 

"You really need to calm down, you're being irrational." I was too afraid to touch him, and so words were my only instruments. "You didn't even say anything. It was all my fault."

But of course nothing could go well when it was what I precisely wanted. And instead of my words being soothing, they turned him into a sobbing wreck that was too loud to go unnoticed. The guests gathered outside would've heard him even if they were humans. And they weren't. 

In seconds, his Master was in the kitchen, and like a doting lover, he gathered him in his arms, asking, in whispered tones what was wrong. He didn't seem to see me, or notice my presence at all. All his care and attention were directed towards the slave that looked tiny in his arms. 

But that just wasn't right. His reactions were exaggerated, and his Master's reaction even more so. Even if he did think his offense great, he wouldn't be weeping like he was. And if he were to act the Rank he was, he'd be following rituals of waiting for the right moment and presenting his case in propitiation showcasing his training, not hiding under his Master's arm as if he were trying to disappear. 

Watching the way Luca had conducted himself, I momentarily, I'd forgotten about my own problem. My confusion had taken the dominant part of my brain until another man appeared at the door. Jude, Joseph's little brother. If my Master's chat in the car had taught me anything, it was that this man was strong enough to overthrow his older brother. And lthough my Master never said the words, I knew that he became the sole heir of the family's fortune even when he wasn't the rightful one. 

And he was looking at me now with eyes that spit fire.


	19. Chapter 19

Lu

 

Jude wasted no time to get to me, he was there before I could blink, and his hand was fisted in my hair before I could say a word. Pulling cruelly, he leant forward, his face inches from mine. "What did you do to him?"

My first instincts were to say nothing. I thought about telling him that the other boy was overreacting. That, really, it wasn't that big of a deal. And I held my tongue only long enough to do just that before the more reasonable voice kicked in. There was no point in denying anything, that man could read minds, and even if he could, Luca had promised just seconds ago that he would tell. 

And at any rate, whatever he would do couldn't possibly be worse than what my own Master would. And so I told him everything, word for word. And that's when he loosened his grip and let me go.

I hadn't realized how pungent the smell of cigar and alcohol was as he was so close until he moved a step back, and it was no longer taking over my senses. He towered over me, and I readied myself for any kick or stamp coming my way, but his attention was elsewhere. 

He turned. "You're hurting him," he told his brother. "Your silly play of pretending as if you were living as a mundane domestic couple needs to stop. He doesn't want it, and you weren't born for it."

Joseph raised his head just enough to glare at him. "Don't presume to speak for him. He knows what he wants." 

"As you so like to repeat." Jude challenged, "Why don't you let him speak for himself, then? Ask him what he wants." 

In my peripheral vision, I could see Joseph burying his face in Luca's hair, refusing to answer.

"Ask him." Jude pressed. 

Luca's cries grew louder, as if he drowning in his sorrows and asking for help. He was loud enough to draw everybody's attention from the living room, if they by some odd chance haven't heard yet. And it was loud enough to warrant a slap, or at least an order of silence. I haven't seen a slave acting that way that wasn't severely punished before. Maybe the spoiled brat would finally get what was coming for him at last.

But all Joseph did was turn around, his hand around his slave's shoulder, guiding him towards the other door of the kitchen, the one that didn't lead to the living room. 

"You go right ahead, then." Jude shouted after him, his voice louder that Luca's strangled cries. "You keep running. Like you always do. And leave me to deal with every mess you leave behind." 

He reached for the knife Luca was using, and I was ready to sprint as far away from him as possible. This was escalating on a level that I hadn't anticipated. But before I could go anywhere, he lifted it chucking it at his brother. It landed inches away from his torso, sticking to the space between two ceramic hexagonal tiles, but Joseph didn't stop to look back, didn't even seem to notice.  

"You drove our host out of his own house," My Master's voice was amused behind us. "And to think I was worried about you taking over the family's load."

Jude didn't answer, he was fuming. But then another voice joined Master's. It was the woman who was shooting daggers at my Master throughout the whole afternoon. "You really shouldn't poke a lioness's cub. You should've learnt that by now."

Jude turned, his face red and his hands shaking. "That slave is going to be the downfall of him. Mark my words."

Lizzy laughed. Humorless and dry. "Even Adam accepted it. It's time you do, too."

That explains my Master's greeting. And him knowing the slave's name. 

Another head appeared at the door, raising an eyebrow at my Master. "So, can your slave cook?"

My master looked at me with doubt in his eyes. "I think it better we order out."

Lizzy moved a few steps closer, her eyes scanning the kitchen lazily. She went and opened the oven and then took a look at the pressure cooker. "It just needs heating. And the salad to be chopped."

Master shrugged, sending them all back to the living room, leaving the launch for me to figure out. It baffled me, the fact that each of these people had enough fortune to cover this house several times over, but non brought a slave to serve. Was this their way of showing courtesy to the abolitionist host who has shown them none, fleeing the scene.

I wasn't anywhere where I needed to be to make a meal, or even heat it. I never found myself in a kitchen in any of my previous owner's houses, and so I couldn't help being nervous. But it wasn't as hard as I imagined, and even got a bat on the back once I was collecting the plates to clean and wash. 

The air in the dining room wasn't as intense as I imagined it to be, they were still laughing at jokes some of them cracked as if used to that kind of drama between the two brothers, and had been around to watch it unfold for a long, long time. 

I went back to the kitchen after clearing the table away, and as I was drying the first batch of the plates I cleaned and putting them away, Jude came in. His face didn't hold the same irritated lines it carried only an hour ago, and that relaxed me, but only barely. 

"There's a wine cellar in the backyard." He threw something shiny and small my way. I caught it in the air. "You'll find a door at the very end, open it, get me anything from the top right shelf."

I nod. Looking at the key in my hand, and sprint to do his bidding. The place he called a wine cellar was more of a luxurious underground bunker. If the house had screamed mundane, this place screamed dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post new chapters every Sunday!


	20. Chapter 20

She's been eyeing me throughout the day, sending hot daggers my way,  her eyes displeased, her mouth drawn into a fretful bow.

I knew Elizabeth long enough to know that she would pull me aside eventually. And I wasn't wrong. For as soon as everyone had become engaged enough in their chats after launch, she pulled me out, guiding me to the backyard.

Idle talk was not her thing, but this time, I had to admit that she did a pretty good job avoiding the subject for a time before she got to what she really wanted to talk about.

She was distracted enough to not hear Dante in the inner wine cooler, and I didn't tell her. 

"I hear you're getting married."

"Who told you?"

The communications between my family and the promised pride were private, they were wrapped in so much secrecy that even the residents in my house didn't know about it yet. Marriages of convenience were tricky, they needed to be done the right way, and the vows should be exchanged before any announcement could be made. 

"Is it true?" She pressed. 

"I would like to know who brought the news to you first. It's a breach of confidentiality."

"So it is true." She cried. 

I contemplated for a second before, "Yes."

Her face was a haggard mask all of a sudden. She looked at me as if I've committed a grave sin, like I'd betrayed her. 

"I left him," she said, as if this was to explain everything.

"I know." She left her boyfriend after the night she cheated on him. With me. 

She sat down on the closest thing she saw. Were she a human, I would have been worried she'd faint. Her face was impossibly white, her hands were shaking as she reached for her hair, then lowered it again, balling it into loose fists on her lap. 

Her silence prolonged that I was beginning to think of talking at last. Not that I had much to say at all. What do you say in this situation, does she want me to apologize? Will an apology make it better?

But then she spoke. "I thought we had a connection. I thought we'd become a thing. That's why I let Denny go."

I wanted to tell her that it was one night. One night of shared flesh. How does one come to the conclusion after one night. And it wasn't even a one on one sort of situation. 

"But then you never called again," she said. "I had initiated it. I had taken the first move, the ball was in your court. It was your move now."

"I," But I had nothing to say. 

"And every month," she raised her voice. "Every month, you fūcking asshole. Every time we met in somebody's house, we'd share something special."

We'd gang up on the same slave, yes. 

She went on. "But then you'd leave. And then it's another month of waiting."

I wasn't clueless, I knew she was interested. But I also know that I hadn't given her any reason to be. Apart from that one night, that is. And I had thought every meeting afterwards a chance to share something we both enjoyed. I sexually identify as gay. A gay sadist. But a gay nonetheless. I told her so.  

"But you're marrying her," she spat.

"A marriage of convenience." I said, "We want to merge. She wants the money, I want the connections her name brings. It's a business deal."

"You can merge without a marriage. We're in the twenty-first century."

It wasn't the same. She knew. And I needed heirs. She knew that, too. There was no point in telling her that. So instead, weighing my words very carefully, I told her, "You don't want to marry me."

"Why?" she mocked, "because I deserve so much better?"

"You do." I said. And before she could jump at me, I quickly amended. "Because you deserve the whole deal. We share a sadistic side that I'm always happy to explore with you. You understand what in means to be shunned for liking pain more than pleasure. We'll always have that, but it's not enough to make a happy marriage. Not the way you imagine it to be.

"But a happy marriage is possible with that woman"

"I don't know that woman. I don't care how happy she is. I know you-"

"Do you even hear yourself! How inconsistent you're being! You like me, so you can't marry me. You don't care for her, and so you can marry her."

"It doesn't matter if I like her or not. I'm not marrying her because I like her. We're in a business relationship."

"One where she's the mother of your child."

"Yes."

She breathed out in exasperation. But before she could say anything, I did, "She wants something from me that I can give, and I want something she can't give."

"I can give you what you want. I can carry a child." 

I was stunned, rendered speechless for a few seconds. Until at last, I stood up, and said, "What about what you want?"

She stood, coming closer. "What do I want?" 

"What do you want." I repeated. "I never understood your fixation on me. When everyone runs, you just seem to hang on tighter."

"That," she said, "is a good thing."

I wheeled around, facing her. "No! Don't you understand? They go, because I'll hurt them. Because they're smart-"

"I know what you're doing." She tried weakly.

"-Because I enjoy seeing you hurt. Because I was elated that you broke it off with Denny, and because I loved seeing him in pain. But I still didn't want to be with you." 

It was her turn to be stunned. But she wasn't there yet. Her eyes still didn't have enough doubt to put this to bed, so I went on, "It's isn't just physical for me. And a part of me, a dark twisted part, but one that is still me, had enjoyed your breakup more than I enjoyed our time together." The same part of me that was now driving away the only woman I have ever felt anything for. "So I ask you this, what do you want?"

That did it for her. "You're despicable," she said.

The slap, I was expecting, but still didn't try to evade. I had earned it. And in someway, rejoiced at receiving it. It feels good knowing that I've done what I intended so well that she'd, at last, lost all that's left for me.

The same part of me that rejoiced at her breakup, rejoiced for my heartbreak of watching as she climbed the stairs up, and out of my life. But that only lasted seconds before the boy who's been hiding like a little mouse in the cupboard the whole time let another sound escape.


	21. Chapter 21

I thought he'd kneel, and offer apologies. Because that's what most slaves would do when caught in this kind of situation, they grovel and offer themselves for punishment. Even when all he's done wrong was be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

Not this one, though. Dante stood there, with both his hands squeezing the glass bottle in his hand, holding it as if he's just seen a ghost. And then, instead of opening his mouth to offer apologies, he opened it to ask, "You're getting married, Master?"

Of all the things he could've said. 

"Put that bottle back." I ordered. He'd break it before he realizes, and knowing Jude, he'd make me pay for breaking his brother's stash. 

"But you're gay. I know you're gay."

I raised an eye brow, Dante blinked. Then did as he was told, his body trembling slightly. Finally, thought, some sort of reaction that he's still there, a functioning slave behind all the stiffness. 

Crooking my index finger, I had him follow me. Across the room, and up the flight of stairs. I let him stay at the patio as I made my way into the house, and said my goodbyes. 

I checked my phone on my back out, Daniel had finally replied. 

Three steps in and I turned my car on, the front line flashed with a click, it was already dark outside. He followed me into the car, silent this time, and we were off. 

His silence didn't last long, though. For as soon as the house disappeared behind us, he resumed his questions. "You're marrying an Abbot, Master? These weren't on the Smith's side in the war."

I said nothing, and he went on, "If I remember correctly, they switched side at the last moment, meaning that they cost you a great deal of time lost because you had to change all your planes. They were traitors of the Crown." He breathed, and then, as an after thought, "Master."

I didn't know how he knew that, and wanted to ask if it was another service of his trainer's, did he have a file with all my business' associates listed in it as well. Instead, I said, "You're awfully chatty for someone who's about to get his skin flayed off his back."

"I am, Master?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"You were eavesdropping."

"Was not!" The enthusiastic denial surprised me enough to turn and look at him, he was so out of character, with all the questions, comebacks, and even his tone. Where was all of this even coming from, he was the picture of submission only hours ago. 

But he didn't need me to send him any warning look, because he was already amending himself, "But of course, Master, If you think that I need to be punished, I-"

I cut him off, "I do." Even if I, myself, thought that where he landed was not his fault, but a coincidence. It didn't matter, I didn't need a reason to hit him anyway. And even if he weren't there or hadn't mouthed off, I'd have hit him just because I needed somewhere to get out all what Lizzy had made me feel in in that cellar. 

He didn't say anymore for the rest of the ride, and when I finally stopped the engine in an almost dark parking lot, he waited for my nod to open the door, on his best behavior.

"Take off your cloths, then." 

He looked out the window at the empty parking lot, then took of his seatbelt. 

"Here, Sir?"

"Here." I confirmed. 

He took his shirt off, and was starting to undo his belt when I leaned over, startling him. But I only reached out over him, opening the glove compartment, I got out a bag of elastic hair ties, Then another bag of hair pins, followed by a bag of liquorice wheels bulk candy before I found what I wanted.

He went on to unbutton then unzip his trousers before rolling them off his legs, struggling to do so in the confined space, his eyes never leaving the nude g-string I held. 

"This for me, Sir?"

"What do you think?" If it weren't for club's policy and human's general discomfort when I walk with my slaves naked, I'd have done just that. The irony of the human, you can have sex in there, but you can't walk in stark naked.

The man at the door of the club let us in, and immediately, we were assaulted by the loud music and the smell of booze and leather. I felt him press against me for a second, before he moved back, looking around the room with an expression on his face I didn't recognize.

The club had three stages, all with masters and slaves performing, and a quick chat with one of the club's patron told me that all the private rooms were also fully booked. "You'll have to be content just watching, Sir." the man added.

Ordering a drink, I did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing the name of the family Adam is going to marry into wrong for the last two chapters. It's the Abbots, not the Allens.


	22. Dante

He had me close to him throughout the night, tweaking my ringed nipples in between fetching his drinks for him. He talked to humans, saying his hellos, before joining a group of them. They pointed at the different men performing, making their comments, before one of them asked my Master about the marks on my back and body. 

I knew it was going to come up, I just wasn't expecting it to come up that way, or that quickly. 

I didn't hear my Master's answer, it didn't matter, but I knew that the man's line of question died with another topic replacing it. 

I was in a daze, with so much information circling in my brain, so much I didn't understand, so much I wanted explained.

I don't know how it had happened, but one moment I was kneeling next to him, over thinking everything I have accidentally heard earlier that day, and the next, I was at the stage.

I had thought that we'd spent the night watching, my Master observing. But as he was downing his fifth glass of alcohol, a man on the stage announced that his submissive is unable to be here, and that he was looking for a substitute to take his place in his scene. My Master was very quick to offer me for the enjoyment of crowd. 

He walked me backstage, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd. 

The man who was to be my temporary master at the scene shook hands with my owner, intoroducong himself, "Chris Willis."

"Adam Smith," then he petted my shoulder, "And this is Dante." 

"A pleasure,"

They exchanged pleasantries before the Chris started asking about my preferences. I knew what this was, I was well aware of the practice humans called BDSM, it was a child's play compared to anything I've had gone through. I knew that not all humans knew that slavery was still practiced, and even fewer had access to it at all. 

BDSM was their way of letting go, but they did it all wrong according to anyone who owned a slave or was a slave himself. I didn't have preferences, my preferences were my Master's. And I didn't have a safeword, because no word I could ever utter would stop a warranted punishment. This was textbook. Something all slaves knew and memorized by heart. 

But my Master seemed to think about it, taking a moment before he answered the man, and once he did, he delivered the line too well, that I almost believed him. "He doesn't like crops. And he's not allowed to release, but do feel free to tease him. Otherwise, you're welcome to do as you wish, within the club's guidelines, of course."

Chris nodded solemnly, "Of course," 

"He's got a thick skin, my boy."

"Pardon?"

My Master got close, too close to the man's face, and then whispered, "Don't target his back, nor cut him up." 

The man's eyes glazed over, then he nodded. My Master moved a step back, his arm going around my waist and pulling me towards him, he lowered his lips closer to mine, and kissed me. 

His tongue penetrated my mouth the way no other part of him has, it was peculiar and exciting and frightening all at once. And it was all for show. 

My Master doesn't make a habit of kissing slaves, he doesn't make a habit of indulging one when he goes to deepen the kiss, which is what,he was doing now. Indulging me as I took advantage of the situation, moving my hand to touch his chest. Our bodies collided, and amidst all the tongue and lips, I felt his clothed shaft againt my bare skin, hard. 

I moved my hip against his hardness, testing the boundaries. I've never felt this bold with him, he never gave me a chance to be bold to begin with. And now that his precious pets that weren't whipping boys weren't around, I planned to take full advantage.

He let go, though, and a sudden relief washed over me, one that surprised me. Perhaps it was my inner self trying to protect me. Any more affectionate touches and I'd have start believing that I was a true beloved submissive of my Master's. Perhaps it was good that he broke it off before too long. Before I started to believe it. Taking advantage or not, at the end of the day, I was only me, trying to wrestle a man who only saw me as a toy into caring for me. 

His amused smile as he let me off confirmed just that, it was a game to him, all a game. 

What the dominant in leather gear did to me that night was all secondary to my feelings of lost and confusion. 

What did he really want with me, my Master. What was it that he really wanted. 

He was hard against me, I had felt him. And so I knew it to be true. But it could've been the alcohol and the multiple men at the stage that he'd been watching for some time. It didn't necessarily mean that it was me.


	23. Chapter 23

Adam's POV

 

My whole life, I had I liked meek, obedient and submissive boys that responded with fear in their eyes to any move of mine. I loved their jerky moves and their constant lookout for trouble, weighing every word before saying it, trying to please in any way and all ways possible. The terrified faces turned me on, they made me hunger for more. More blood, more wounds, more punishment. I loved the sight is writhing bodies that flinched whenever I got near enough to hurt them, I loved hurting them, period. Their ever-willing bodies that moved the way they thought I'd enjoy, the way they anticipated my preferences. 

Not him, though. 

There were the daring questions that he wouldn't stop asking in the car. But before that, he'd tried to extract all information from Luca, information about me and what I was like, stories he wanted to know about my past, it had all been amusing to witness. But then this, his daring kisses and touches as the men watched on. His boldness as he rutted against me, feeling me when I hadn't ordered nor encouraged. I was used to bodies more subservient and hesitant, and so his shameless displays had baffled me. But only briefly. After a few moments, I learnt that I enjoyed the change of pace and mantra. 

He'd been tempting me, all night long. The way his body moved on the stage had awakened my loins in ways that it hadn't before. In was that he hasn't before. And I thought I was ready to have him and devour him whole. Although the dominant who had him in chains for all to see had followed the order I gave him under compulsion, and hadn't targeted the skin I knew wouldn't break, I could still smell Dante, his scent overpowering all human blood that lingered around me. And I wanted nothing more than I wanted him. The subtle signs he'd sent me time and again in the few weeks that I had owned him hadn't stirred me half as much. Perhaps a because I was offered these from delicate, easy to break boys all the time. His boldness, though, was another story. 

I hadn't wanted to use compulsion earlier on the host as to avoid unwarranted attention, and because I didn't want to cause a scene when some guest lost their assigned rooms. But at this point, I didn't care what haze I stirred.

I waited until the server was close enough to draw the least bit of attention. The manager came, and in minutes, it was done. The same server I used compulsion on took me to the third floor via an elevator that he unlocked with a card, and into a room he led me. Dante was still on stage when I left, but the dominant with him was wrapping things up, so he wouldn't take long, now. I instructed the server to lead him here when it was done, then tipped him greatly. Compulsion or not, this always brought better results. 

I didn't have to wait long, for only a few minutes passed before a knock came, and in came Dante, with the man who was playing at dominating him on the stage right behind him, with his hand sneaking in to go around his waist. Santa's face was expressionless, but his eyes betrayed worry. He clearly couldn't shake the man off on his own.

"I didn't think I should leave him to walk on his own. They tend to be wobbly on their legs after an intense session."

Intense, indeed. 

I nodded. "I understand. Thank you, I'll take it from here."

He didn't let go of Dante. "He was a pleasure to play with." A pause, then, "I noticed the scars on his abdomen. They look new."

I blinked, was this man playing the role of the concerned dominant who fancied himself a hero in shining armor, one that is about swipe a mistreated boy off his feet and into safety. If this was the case, two could play the same game. But I had other things in mind that I wanted to do. And I had gone through the trouble of securing a room to do just that. 

"Indeed," I said, "I had heated iron poles to have him branded. But instead of the brand touching the skin, and because of his struggling, it ended up like this."

The man looked truly horrified. He wasn't expecting a confession such as this, nor to get one without so much of a denial beforehand. His hand twitched on Dante's waist, his fingers tightening, and then he tried to push the boy away and behind his back. Dante ducked down, avoided his hand and stepped away from him and onto my open arms. "I'm in the mood for an audience," I whispered, "What say you?"

But I gave him little chance to reply, for the dominant's eyes were starting to get jumpy, and I had little time to act before I thought he'd sprint and do whatever humans do when they panic. 

It was as simple as looking into his eyes, and ordering him to sit, and watch.


	24. Dante

It took him less than a second to sink his teeth into my neck, his body pressed to my back, his hands everywhere. I didn't w what brought on the change, but I welcomed the treatment as one would welcome a drink after days of thirst. 

My hands went up before I'd realized it, trying to touch the clothed chest, he's been depriving me for so long, all I wanted was a touch. His dick was hard, I could feel it against me. And for once, I didn't have to wonder for who it was, because there was no doubt, in this room, that it was about to be mine. His mouth on me felt wonderful, and I never wanted him to stop, not for anything at all. My hands worked the buckle of his pants, but my hands fumbled, unable to get a good grip with the way he's positioned me. 

His lips left my neck, he turned me, like a doll in his hand to do with as he wished, to look at him. "Any boy would now be sagging, barely able to move."

Daring, I said, "I'm not any boy, though, sir."

He didn't answer me, but the slight twitch of his mouth told me that the lines tonight were blurry, and that I could get away with much. 

He licked the wound he left open, and for a second, I thought he'd sink his teeth into me skin again, but then his hand came to my shoulder, and he pushed me down, to me knees. My face inches from the marred lining of his pants, the order was clear. 

It took seconds for me to get the fabric out of the way, and my mouth where I wanted. 

A surge of sudden courage came over me. Because if this was the one chance that I didn't know if it would occur again, then I should very well take it into hand, and get the most out of it. Just like I've been doing for the whole night. 

I kissed his length. Once, twice, and a third time, then licked it tentatively, barely touching it. I wasn't teasing, necessarily, but it was borderline dangerous to do anything he doesn't tell me to do, and take initiative. He wanted to be sucked off, and I was taking the chance to worship what I don't get chance to see often instead, choosing my own pleasure, if only because I thought that it would please him. 

But he'd said nothing for a while, let me get away with far more licks and kisses than I thought he would before his hand finally came to rest on my head, then fisted what he could of the short hair he's ordered cut. The warning was clear, and the guiding hand left very little space for play, and so I opened my mouth, and took all I could in, which wasn't much on the first try anyway. But he was more patient than I thought he would be, and let me work at my own pace for a while before announcing, "I'm going to fůck you tonight," His voice was gruff, I liked knowing what my tongue and mouth and muscles of my throat were doing to him, I loved how much what I was doing was affecting him, that he was as turned on as I was. The man who dominated me, and was watching from the corner of the room now, had brought me no orgasm, although he's done much edging, from both sides, but everything he did hadn't turned me on half as much as I was now. And he'd just said that he'd fùck me now. It only stirred me further. 

It wasn't long then until he had me stop, then turned me and pushed me to the nearest surface, and pressed two fingers into my hole almost immediately, I was still slick from my earlier treatment on stage, he hummed, scissoring me, before adding a third finger, before withdrawing. I had no warning except for that, the withdrawal of fingers. And then, he was in me. 

His arm circled around my waist, he pulled me to him, my back and his clothed chest touching, then the rough grinding started. I let out a shout, that quickly turned into a moan, then a whimper. I had forgotten how visceral it felt, how it shakes your core.

He let go of me, smacking my ass as he rutted against me. His breath was shallow in my ear, but he didn't seem nearly as affected as I was by what we were doing. He licked the wound that was still bleeding on my shoulder blade, just barely, then bit me again, creating another wound. I roared, my head spinning, my body shaking, but his arm that was back around my waist kept me grounded, put me right where he wanted me to be, disallowed movement that he didn't want me to make. I was a vessel for him to take pleasure from, I was a doll that he could do with as he wished, I was his slave that has yearned for his attention for so long, but has only just gotten it.

I could feel him everywhere, all of a sudden, he was all my senses could smell or feel or think about, it was overwhelming, and wonderful, all at once. He was a drug, I wanted him to take more, to take everything, I wanted him to bite harder, to turn me into a more quivering mess than I was. I struggled in his arm, just so he would hold me tighter, just so he would get closer, so I could feel him deeper. I wanted him and I to be one, I wanted to kneel and worship, I wanted to forever be his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken foreverr.   
> I think Dante is becoming borderline obsessed. LOL. Let me know what you thought.


	25. Twenty five - Adam

I couldn't take more than a day off, and regretfully had to end things even when I would've liked the fun to last longer. I was enjoying the new persona my slave had fostered, the passive aggressive nature that I didn't know he harboured. He clearly noticed my kindled interest, and took it upon himself to keep it up, holding my car keys within my reach, but not quite. "I can drive us, Sir, if you'd like."

I nodded, going to the passenger's seat, "I'd like. Go on."

He did, going to sit in the driver's seat, he set the GPS to backtrack, and take us back home, but I stopped him with a hand in his arm. "We have somewhere to be before that." 

I keyed in the location, and he drove out of the driving lot. "Where are we going, Sir?"

I had turned my phone on, checking for emails as I contemplated answering him. "This visit has become unavoidable after that stunt you pulled, setting the house in chaos and waking me up in the middle of the night. I never asked you, though, what has happened, did I?"

Something I didn't recognize creeped into his voice, "I thought I was punished for that already, Master."

"You still haven't told me what went down," I said. 

"He provoked me, and I answered with violence. I shouldn't have, I'm sorry, Sir. It isn't going to happen again."

As he said it, I could hear it in his voice that he himself wasn't convinced of what he was saying. Only words were coming out of of his mouth, with no real meaning behind them, he was saying what he thought I wanted to hear. "What did he say, exactly?"

"Nothing new," he dodged the question, "these things happen all the time, rivalry among slaves that serve the same Master."

I didn't enjoy being strung along. "So far, your boldness have been a welcome change that intrigued me. But make no mistake, boy, you're walking a very dangerous line, don't go rogue, don't cross it."

He turned to me, the road momentarily forgotten before he straightened up. "I'm sorry, Sir. I apologize. I didn't mean no disrespect. I didn't want to stir trouble, is all."

"What did he say to you?" I repeated the question. 

"It was never what he said, Sir."

He was silent long enough for me to issue a threat, but I waited a tad bit longer, and he delivered, "It was what you said."

I was confused, and I didn't mask it, what was he talking about. What did I say?

"I was just sent away, Sir, and I was jealous of who you chose to take my place, the slaves in the dorms were speaking so highly of him, and so I attacked them." 

"This whole charade you pulled, was because of jealousy? They weren't even talking to you."

"They were, Sir. It's just that what they were saying about me didn't matter, it was because of what they said about that other boy."

I shook my head, ready to voice my confusion again, but at this point, it no longer mattered, I've already had planes to make sure it never happens again. 

"I shouldn't have," he said quickly, "there's no excuse, it won't happen again. I've learnt my lesson the hard way."

"It won't happen again alright," I confirmed, "But not because you've learnt your lesson the hard way." 

"Sir?" he asked, as if just realizing where he was driving us to. "Where are we going?"

He was worried, I could tell that he was. But I didn't reply, he could simmer long enough for me to enjoy his apprehension, and take it into stride.

His next words, however, took me by surprise. "I thought you liked me enough to keep me, Sir. You enjoyed my company in this trip, you had Rhys train me, wouldn't you want a return on your investment?"

I realized then he thought I was selling him, I didn't discourage the idea, it brought a rush of power that I welcomed. "That's one interesting way to put it."

"He trained me to your specification. I was brought to you according to your specification. I can take more than any of those others you keep, none of them could last as long as I could."

"Something I never signed for."

The GPS voice announced that we are getting closer to our destination, two more minutes to go them take a left, it said. 

My slave held on to the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. "Please don't, Sir. Please. You haven't seen my full potential yet, you're not around long enough to see, if you'd only give me a chance to prove my worth to you."

"Take a left," I said, "And if you leave a mark on my steering wheel, I'll take it out on your hide."

His hand let go of it, only for a second, before he did what he was told, a tear sliding down his face to land on his green shirt.


	26. Twenty six - Adam

He obeyed, as he should. And parked where I directed, his moves slow as he went quiet, calculating his words before saying them, "Was because I listened in? I would've thought you knew. That you were aware, or you would've had me leave otherwise."

"It's not that."

"The fact that I couldn't cook? You haven't tried my cooking. You couldn't possibly know."

I was enjoying this too much to relieve his worry, I wondered where it'll go next, "Not that, either."

Something behind his eyes seemed to change before he said, his tone different. "I won't lay a hand on one of yours again, Sir. I swear it."

We were sitting in the dark now, in a parking lot underground with light only coming from the one elevator twenty feet away. His hands clasped around the steering wheel, fingers digging into the leather and his features contracted painfully, as if the skin was about to crack. 

I laid a hand on his arm, "We are here," I said slowly, "because my sister thinks you could be a danger to her two kids."

He let go of my car, his face softening as he turned to me, a puzzled look on his face, as if I just uttered a riddle he's having a hard time solving. "I," he said softy, "Wouldn't-"

"Wouldn't?"

"Couldn't," he said. "Could never, Sir, Master. Why would she think that? I would never, ever! At any case, it would be the opposite. I would protect, not harm. Nor hurt! Master!"

When it took me longer than a second to answer, he said, "Listen, Sir! No, truly, Sir! Why would I ever harm children of my Master's!"

"They're not my children." They are bastards she decided to take on, and raise as her own. 

"I don't see it like that, Sir, I-"

I cut in, "Your past suggests otherwise." 

"I-"

"My boys are generally docile, unlike you." Not entirely true. Rhys is anything but. He, however, has been here longer than my Theresa herself has been here. "I choose them weak, to pry on them, and break them apart. She got used to that, and had liked it. She doesn't like the change."

Softly, as if in a daze, he chanted, "I can be docile. You can break me, one thousand and twenty two pieces, even more."

"I," I said, my hand on his leg, going up, I wondered if he'd follow, "like the change, however."

Our faces were inches apart. His eyes fluttered, only a second, then, "Why you lettin' me go, then, Sir?"

"I am not." When our lips met, they clashed, and he didn't retreat, but met me with the same heat I had for him, as we were joined as one. My hands were on his body, I felt the wetness of his cheek against mine. It only awakened a hunger I knew I had in me. I wanted more. More. 

As if he knew what I was after, he bared his neck, bracing both hands on my thighs. And for a change, it didn't bother me, or feel needy and overly presumptuous. He felt right where he needs to be, crowding me when I needed that from him. 

As I sunk my fangs into him, I realized that this trip would always be the turning point when it came to him. It was when I realized I liked him enough to keep close. When he let himself cross to the other size, and when I let him, because I liked the boldness for a change. 

It was a quick drink, barely enough to satiate me if I had really been thirsty, but enough to take the edge off. 

I broke our union, ordering.him out of the car, and he obeyed, his eyes searching my face. It wasn't until we were in the elevator, though, going up, that he asked me again, "Where are we going? Will you tell me? Sir?"

I said instead, "You don't have a collar."

He touched his throat self-consciously. "You didn't give me one, Master."

"I am, now," I told him. "I had it made with very specific instructions. Especially for you."

He was about to say something when he held his tongue, I raised my eyebrows at him. 

"It's just," he started. "You're sending me all different kinds of mixed signals, Sir. Not ten minutes ago, I had thought you were getting rid of me. Now you're buying me a collar as if I'm a favored one."

The elevator's door slid open with a bing, just as I said, "It isn't one with jewels, Dante."


End file.
